Sacrifice
by J.A. Carlton
Summary: An ancient artifact has unforseen consequences for the Winchester Brothers as they race against time to undo the havoc it causes to all who come into contact with it.
1. Chapter 1

Sacrifice - S.N. fic

by: sifi

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Disclaimer: Firmly in place…

Love: Deeply embedded.

--

"Sam! Down!" Dean hollered running at his younger brother who dropped out of the line of fire a mere pair of heartbeats before two shells worth of rock salt sped through the space he'd just vacated.

A wrenching metal scream that was worthy of any classic monster movie twisted through the air as the furious apparition swirled into nothingness, evading the hunters once more.

"Damnit!" Dean cursed drawing to a halt at Sam's side. He looked between his baby brother and the young boy he was shielding with his own body, "You guys okay?" he asked breathless.

Sam looked at Martin who nodded with big brown watery eyes that betrayed his fear.

"Yeah…did you get it?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head.

"Martin… what exactly was it that you were thinking?... do you think you can remember it exactly?" Sam asked in his best 'sharing and caring' voice.

The little boy stood safely encircled in his arms, his eyes still shining with fear as he nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged helplessly.

Sam threw his older brother a look and Dean shrugged, "How's about we get somewhere safe and try to remember it once we can take a breath okay?" he suggested and felt the little hand slide into his, hot and just a little damp. "Okay Martin… where were you when all this happened?" Dean asked and felt the young boy pull him toward the stairs with surprising strength and determination.

Sam grinned, keeping his eyes open as he drew up the rear, _One kid to another…_ he thought, never ceasing to be amused by Dean's ready ease with children. When they'd met Andrea and Lucas in Wisconsin, Sam had been more than just skeptical. He held a chuckle remembering his big brother's horrible, awkward attempt at a pick up line, and Andrea's subsequent nudge. She could've been cruel but she hadn't been and that's what had impressed Sam. _I don't know why it still surprises me… I mean he raised me and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for him…it's just… other kids… who knew? I wonder when he's going to wind up a father?_ Sam felt his mental brakes screech to a halt, _I wonder if he already IS and maybe doesn't know it? He can't have used protection EVERY time…_he shook his head, _I don't want to think about that…still…_ and he saw a mental image of all of his big brothers' hope shining right through those windowpane eyes of his when he'd thought for those few seconds, while on their way to rescue Laura, that she might've been targeted because she was pregnant. Of course she hadn't been, but the fact that Dean had so obviously wanted and hoped for it kinda shook Sam a bit.

Martin pulled the two Winchester boys up the stairs and hurriedly through the kitchen into the dining room, where the rest of his family remained, possibly forever, in their chairs. Each of them turned to stone.

"Sam?" Dean asked feeling the air 'whump' to and fro behind him as the door to the kitchen swung on its hinge.

"I don't know… maybe it has something to do with the vessel…" Sam shrugged.

Dean met the little boy's eyes. Martin pointed to the head of the table where a box lay opened, the festive blue satin ribbon so stark against the aged mahogany of the wood beneath it. _God… growing up in a place like this… so cold! _Dean thought, _Freakin' window dressing man…we may not have had much stuff but at least we knew we were loved! _he felt his belly crawl as he yet again took in the physical trappings of the statues and the manor around him. Pursing his lips together and shaking his head he looked down and met Martin's eyes then grinned and tussled his hair playfully. _Yeah, well no matter what I think about it… this kid needs his family back…_

"Sam salt…" Dean tossed one of the canisters to his little brother while he moved to the door that led into the main hall. With the doorways as prepared as they could get for the time being the Winchester brothers looked at each other, Dean's arm was protectively around Martin and Sam was already moving to the table and pulling out John's journal.

Martin looked nervously at the doors then deep into Dean's eyes, his fear and question all too evident.

"Don't worry Martin… I think we're okay for now…" he nodded making sure the boy was seated before he went to the head of the table and brought the box back to the little grouping the three of them made. He lifted the 'present' out of the box and inspected it.

_Damn it's heavy for such a small thing…who gives a kid something like this? _he shook his head internally and scowled, _a kid this age… a Playstation, X-Box, hell buy the kid a freakin' polo pony! What the hell's a kid gonna do with a bell?_ he thought angrily, cupping his hand around the bell itself as he flipped it over to see if there was any kind of inscription or anything on the inside.

The look on his face said all that needed to be said as he met eyes first with Sam, then with Martin, who cocked an eyebrow, shrugged and nodded, "Yeah… I didn't get it either…" the kid admitted smiling wanly.

"So what happened?" Dean asked.

Martin shook his head, "I took it out of the box, shook it, thought about how dorky it was and figured Aunt Mildred had finally flipped her nut… I mean… I'm nine! What the hell… uh… heck am I gonna do with something like that? Ring for Stephens when mom and dad aren't home? Puhleeze!" he scoffed and actually drew a grin and a chuckle from both brothers at the same time.

"Aunt Mildred huh?" Dean asked and smirked when Martin nodded, "Lemme guess she's got a mole and more than just a few whiskers stickin out of her chin right?" he asked lightly making the boy laugh and nod.

Dean looked up, "Anything in the journal Sam?" he asked.

Sam shook his head, "Nothing… whatever it is it's been off the radar a while…"

"Okay… first things first…" Dean nodded curtly and looked at his new young friend, "… was there anything anyone said or wrote or any warning labels attached to this thing that might give us an idea of just… what… or where… or…?" he started to ask and saw the boy's eyes light up as he cupped his hand around the metal of the bell and moved to stand between the brothers showing them the red, white, blue and green stone inlays around the apex.

"Well you can tell by the stones and the patterns that it's from Israel… some of the characters look to be Hebrew in origin… but there are some differentiations that could be dialectic depending on the region in which it was found… but I don't read Hebrew… I just know enough to recognize it y'know?" he stopped abruptly and looked at Dean almost questioningly and with more than just a little embarrassment.

Over his head Sam caught Dean's surprised and impressed look and figured it was pretty similar to the one he was wearing.

"Damn! You could give Professor Peabody over there a run for his money kiddo… I'm impressed…" Dean nodded smiling and thought perhaps he'd sensed an approval from his younger brother.

_Poor kid's probably just like my boy… blows the bell curve for everyone in class, probably even gets pounded on more than his fair share… Hey kiddo… never be ashamed of being smart…_ Dean thought. "Where'd Aunt Mildred get it?" he asked.

Martin shrugged almost seeming to stand a little taller with Dean's praise, "Probably in Jerusalem… she went there last year… before it got too hot y'know?" he explained, "She said she'd always wanted to go to the Wailing Wall at least once before she died…"

Dean nodded and appraised the boy expectantly, something in his young face just wanting him to ask, "Oh yeah?"

"She's been there at least six times that I know of…" Martin punch-lined them and got a genuine chuckle from both brothers.

"Sounds about right…" Sam nodded smiling before nodding and scrubbing his face with his hands, "There's nothing in the journal… we either need a Rabbi, Synagogue, Library or the Internet and a digital camera…" he sighed cocking an eyebrow expectantly at their young and well heeled host.

Martin perked right up, "We're wireless of course… but my laptop and camera's in my room…"

Once more Martin watched the brothers exchange looks he couldn't quite read but thought he got the general idea about. _Boy are they tight… they look out for each other… hard… course if this is how they spend their time… I guess they need someone… I wish I had someone…_ he thought briefly and looked at Dean first then at Sam, _So he's 'Professor Peabody' huh? I bet you could give him a run for his money if you really wanted to… or do you just want everyone to think you're cool?_ he wondered.

"Alright then… lead on MacDuff…" Dean invited dropping his hand onto Martin's shoulder as he rose to his feet and checked his shotgun, "You know how to load one of these?" he asked.

Martin shook his head, "No… Grampa died before he could teach me how to shoot and dad's got crap for aim… hate's guns…" he divulged.

"Well then…" Dean smiled and proceeded to show him first how to open the chamber, then pulled two shells from his pockets, "…these are loaded with rock salt… it's good for deterring spirits and some other kinds of… not happy entities…"

"Rock salt?... we've got some sea salt… and some kosher salt that Emma likes to cook with…" Martin nodded, "She makes great chicken soup!"

Dean grinned, "Either one works…" he looked over Martin's head at Sam, "Hey Sammy… which was it you used on that turkey?" he asked.

"Kosher salt… worked like a charm…" Sam nodded remembering one of their ill fated attempts at a Thanksgiving dinner, when Sam had ordered the turkey from a local butcher who'd advertised on late night t.v…. what a fiasco that had turned out to be…

Dean nodded at Martin and shrugged, "Either way then…" he grinned and showed the boy how to load the shotgun. "Alright… you stick by my side, keep your eyes open and shoot anything I tell you to alright?" Dean admonished relinquishing possession of his sawed-off to the boy while cocking his pistol and making sure that there was a consecrated iron round in the chamber.

Martin nodded and held the gun tight into his shoulder as Dean had instructed.

"Be careful…" Sam admonished as they passed cautiously over the salt line and into the hallway while he inspected the bell the boy had received.

--

"Turkey?" Martin asked softly, as they stepped into the ground floor hallway moving cautiously but quickly toward the central staircase that bowed to the left and the right on the second floor, each leading to a different corridor from a central veranda.

"Yeah… about eight or so years ago… damned thing tossed half my stuffing around the kitchen… that stuff's a bitch!" Dean snarled remembering how many different recipes he'd looked up and tested to find just the right one to help make the day something special for Sam.

Martin nodded smiling then huffed a chuckle, "I've watched Emma make it… cutting up the bread, toasting it… the dicing, and all that… I suggested she buy the boxed stuff but she just smiled and said she liked to do it…" he shrugged and cocked his head to the side eyeing Dean speculatively as he led him up the right hand bow of the stairs.

"What?" Dean asked. He could feel the kid just dying to say something and figured he probably didn't get much of a chance to talk to anyone like a normal person. _I see a lot of Sam in him…_

Martin stopped halfway up the curve and looked at Dean, "Can I ask you something?" he asked.

Dean shrugged, "Sure…"

"Would you do what you do… if you didn't have your brother?"

Dean's eyes popped wide, _That's not the question I was expecting… I don't KNOW what I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't that…_and he gave the question genuine consideration before starting his slow but certain nod, "Yeah I would…"

Martin looked him deep in the eyes, nodded and led him to the landing then into the darkened hall. His hand was slick around the grip of the sawed off so he held it across his chest like he'd seen in movies and on his video games. He wondered as he moved down the darkened corridor if he'd have any of the courage he felt if Dean Winchester wasn't at his back.

_Even without his brother he'd do it…I wonder if he ever gets scared?_ he thought as one of the half dozen doors on his right was thrown violently open with an ear splitting howl emanating from it, rolling out into the hall and straight at them in a cloud of mist. Martin backpedaled right into Dean's legs and shakily raised the shotgun like he'd seen in the movies and on t.v. Behind him, Dean knelt quickly, wrapped his arms around the boy to steady the sawed off, helped him sight and pulled the stock tight into the kid's shoulder.

"Squeeze the trigger, don't pull…" he said into his ear.

"Now?" Martin asked feeling his heart pound and his breath coming fast.

"Now," Dean nodded, his smile evident in his voice as the sound of both barrels unloading into the encroaching cloud echoed in the hallway.

--

"Dean!" Sam called and bolted out of his chair, clutching the bell tightly in his hand.

--

Okay… do y'all think I should continue?

Do you sense potential?

Please let sifi know… what you think?


	2. Chapter 2

Sacrifice – chpt 2 – s.n. fic

by: sifi.

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"Dean!" Sam called and burst into the hallway, his voice reverberating in the far too large space that was the house Martin and his family lived in.

"We're fine Sam…" Dean called, his voice rolling faintly down the enormous central staircase.

Sam shook his head and pulled out his cell, wondering at the absurdity of using the device while they were both INSIDE the house.

"We'll be back down in a minute… it tried to ambush us…" Dean explained from his end.

"Did you get a look at it?" he asked.

"Nah, not really… it was just kind of a big grayish mist…"

"Alright… be careful…"

"Yep," Dean severed the connection and pocketed his phone as Martin opened the door to his bedroom.

Dean stood and stared, the child's room was actually a suite of rooms that were quite possibly larger than full Wings of most of the motels he and Sam had ever stayed at. He looked around and shook his head.

"Come on…" Martin grabbed his hand and led him through the 'sitting room' deeper inside.

They stopped in the actual bed room where Dean could see the boy spent his time. The room was supposed to be for sleeping while the anteroom was supposed to be more for day to day activities and quote unquote 'living' purposes but Martin seemed to prefer a central location. His room was easily three times the size of a standard motel room, the bed was a huge four poster jobber with spread and dressings that were far too sophisticated for a boy of nine to really like. There was a large desk against the far wall, the kind of desk usually reserved for people like Daniel Blake who'd made it to their station through wily if not hard work, again, not for a child of nine. The desktop items were all neatly arranged and precisely ordered including the laptop which sat closed, its power light blinking patiently in the gloom.

_Frell me man… it's gotta be like living in a damned museum! what kind of person does this to a kid? It's just sick! _Dean thought as Martin dove under the desk and started rooting around. His eyes fell onto the bed, _It sure does look comfortable though…hard or soft mattress? Pillow top or featherbed? Hmmm_… he wondered and with a smile took a running leap, flipping in mid air onto his back and landing with a soft 'whumpf' atop the properly made piece of furniture.

"Ahhh…" _pillow top… nice…_ he grinned and stretched out with his hands behind his head while keeping his eyes open for anything amiss as the boy backed out from under the desk and drew up the power cord. He glanced around, his eyes taking in Dean's casual sprawl and easy enjoyment of the bed and he smiled inscrutably before turning back to his desk and rooting around in one of the drawers.

_He's observant…_ Dean noticed peering snidely out from under his lashes, wondering just what this kid was thinking. They'd met so many people through the years, so many kids too from different walks of life that Dean was often quite amazed at just how un-different children really were when it all came down to it. _Leave it to the adults to screw 'em up…_ he smirked watching as Martin pulled out a camera and the cable to attach it to the laptop.

"This?" Martin thumped the mattress though Dean never felt it budge, "…this is my best possession… when I'm sleeping I can do or be anything or anybody…" he smiled as Dean sat up and eyed him openly.

"Dude… you can do or be anything or anybody you want, any time you want…" he nodded before tucking his pistol into the waistband of his jeans so he could retrieve the shotgun from the desk while Martin pocketed the camera and held the laptop and its cords tight to his chest.

Dean guided him out of the room with a warm hand on his shoulder and they made their way back to the staircase.

"What about station?" Martin asked halfway down the hall.

"What? Gas station? Radio station? T.V. Station? What station?" Dean asked knowing full well what the boy was referring to. _God I hate when adults do that to kids!_ he sneered angrily to himself.

The boy smiled and looked up at Dean wondering if he was just messing with him or not, one look at his face told him all he needed to know, "I mean socioeconomic station…you know that…"

Dean stopped and turned the boy to face him, "See that? That phrase right there? that's not something a kid your age should be concerned with…seriously… let your folks worry about that kind of crap… the only socioeconomic anything you should be concerned about is whether or not you've got enough cash in your pocket for when the ice cream man comes around…"

The boy nodded, his eyes still examining Dean's, _Poor kid's probably been B.S'd his whole life… probably doesn't know what or who to believe… damned shame… betcha he believes more of what Emma tells him than his own folks…_he thought spocking his eyebrow at the boy.

"You're a lot smarter than you like people to think aren't you?" the kid finally asked.

"Damned skippy…" he nodded and leaned down, "…and damned handsome to boot…"

Martin chuckled, the sound making Dean smile openly as he turned him back toward the stairs, "Man you can be brilliant and people will still underestimate you, it can be a good thing though… sometimes…" Dean muttered.

"Yeah… that's why I keep a B average instead of an A…" Martin said in such a serious voice Dean almost missed the joke.

--

"Dean!...Sam! Sam! Help!" Martin's voice cracked hard as the sound of his fear snagged through the youngest Winchester.

He set the bell down and lurched from the table, his knee catching on the lower lip as he charged for the door, deep pulsing pain thudded just above his kneecap and behind him, as he careened limping into the hallway a faint brassy tinkling hit his ears.

"Sam!" Martin gasped from Dean's side.

"Dean!" Sam called skidding to a halt and crouching at his brothers' side pressing his fingers to his twisted neck and very unhappy with the stripe of blood that was still dripping down the side of his mouth and onto the floor.

Fear sent shockwaves through him as he pressed harder, unable to find a pulse.

_Oh God it's broken… his neck is freakin' broken…No! Please God NO! _"God… Dean! Come on Dean…." _Don't you die on me you son of a bitch! Don't you dare die! _he pleaded looking at Martin, "What happened?... Come on Dean please…" and then he felt it, a faint trembling thumping behind his brothers' larynx. The sound of air passing into and out of his body, no matter how jagged it was, brought tears to his eyes and made his hands tremble until he had to clench them into fists around Dean's jacket.

"We were coming down the stairs and he heard something behind us…it pushed him…" Martin stammered with tears in his eyes.

Sam frowned and pressed his hand to his brothers' face as Dean's breathing deepened and his eyes came slowly open, rolling uncertainly and obviously unable to focus.

_He was dead… oh God he was dead… he really was…again! Damnit Dean! You're not supposed to die! EVER! Do you hear me!_ Sam's voice yelled inside his head.

"Dean?..." he said softly drawing Dean's attention to him, "Dean…say something…"

"…uhm..iin…" Dean garbled and blinked trying to get his eyes to both look at the same thing at the same time, "…'sa matter w'you?" he squinted hard at his little brother, frightened by the fear he saw on his face.

Sam gasped relief through a laugh and ran his hand down his face as Dean rocked his head from side to side and winced before starting to orient himself to the floor and trying to get up.

"No! Stay down…" Sam held him gently with a hand on his chest then looked at Martin, "Go call 911…" he instructed.

Dean's brows crinkled and his mouth frowned, "Sam… hold it Martin…"

"Martin… go please…" Sam admonished and caught Dean's attention while the boy rose wordlessly to his feet, nodding and ran down the hall toward the nearest phone, "Dean, listen to me… you're going to the hospital…" he insisted.

Dean closed his eyes and breathed deep, pushing Sam's hand off his chest as he rolled to his side.

"Dean!" Sam barked feeling his heart lurch in his chest, "Don't move!" his cry and the fear behind it actually stopped Dean from pushing himself upright. He let himself roll back to his original position with Sam supporting his head and neck.

"What is it Sam?" he asked softly, feeling his heart beat pick up pace with his little brother's obvious fear.

Sam swallowed hard around the words that he didn't want to utter and shook his head.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Just please… let's get you checked out okay… Please…"

"I was dead wasn't I?" Dean muttered certainly and closed his eyes when Sam nodded and mouthed the word, 'Yeah'.

"Okay then… a few x-rays, maybe another CT – hey with the amount of radiation I've got in the last year alone any kids I have'll probably have at least three heads…" he joked, trying to exorcise the very unsettling mask of genuine, deep fear on Sam's face, while drumming his fingers on his chest as they waited.

"Hoping for daughters then?" Sam joked tightly.

"They're coming…" Martin huffed returning from somewhere down the hall, he slid next to Dean on his knees and laid one hand onto his shoulder while the other grasped the older man's hand. "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked, his eyes flooding with an almost desperate concern.

"Yeah… I'm gonna be fine…" he assured the boy with a gentle squeeze of his fingers though his eyes only flicked away from Sam's for a moment before returning to that comfortable purchase.

--

"…are a very lucky man… the muscle soreness should go away in a couple days," the ER attending shook his hand, then turned and extended it to Sam even as Dean turned his head to the left and then the right, trying to pop the crick out of his neck.

"Thank you doctor…" Sam nodded and sucked back misty relief as his big brother rose and shrugged into his jacket, "Dean… what happened?" Sam asked taking advantage of the fact that they had a moment alone.

Dean shrugged, "Damned thing tried to sneak up behind us… I turned and it lashed out before I could get the shotgun up… I'm telling you Sammy… whatever this thing is we gotta find a way to get rid of it…for good…"

"Do you really think it's associated with the bell?..." Sam asked.

"Well what else do you think it could be?" Dean asked knowing the look on his little brothers' face.

Sam shrugged, "I don't know… maybe it's associated with Martin… I mean he's pretty well adjusted for a nine year old kid who's family is sitting in the formal dining room like statues… oh wait… they ARE statues…"

Dean frowned and shrugged, "It's possible…but whatever it is… my guts are telling me it has something to do with that damned bell Sam… we need to find out everything we can about it…"

Sam nodded, "I was making a rubbing of the inscriptions when you were pushed, we'll see what we can find out in the morning… in the meantime though I think we need to get somewhere relatively safe for the rest of the night…"

Dean nodded, "Yeah I'm beat… dyin' really takes it outta ya…"

--

tbc

Please R&R

Let me know what you're thinking

Thanks.

sifi


	3. Chapter 3

Sacrifice – chpt 3 – s.n. fic

by: sifi

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"Sam…" Dean started after taking a glance at the young boy sleeping in the second bed.

"Yeah…"

"Was I really dead?"

Sam took a moment to think about it and nodded slowly, "I… uh… yeah, I think so…I couldn't feel a pulse and your neck…man it was…" Sam sighed a shaky breath, "I can't…"

"Okay…t'sokay Sam…" Dean reached over and dropped a hand onto his little brothers' shoulder. _How the hell would I feel if I saw him laying there with his neck broken… I couldn't handle it… I'd lose it man… _

"So… what's the question Dean?" Sam asked softly, his arms tucked up under his head while his eyes stayed glued to the ceiling.

"How did I get… for want of a better term… un…dead?" he huffed softly and watched Sam shake his head from side to side.

"I don't know…"

"Sam… I don't know if I can live with someone else losing their life for mine… you gotta tell me the truth man… did you do something?" he asked.

Sam rolled onto his side and looked at his big brother stretched between two chairs and propped up with all the spare pillows. Sam half chuckled and shook his head, "Dean… the only thing I did was… demand… that you not be dead…" he said sincerely as something in their gazes clicked and Dean turned a little more toward the bed.

"And you were doing the rubbing when Martin called you…"

Sam nodded, "Yeah…What? Are you thinking…some kind of Djin thing cause it's supposed to be the old oil lamps, bottles, anything that can be stoppered y'know? Not a bell… I mean a bell couldn't hold anything captive…"

"Unless something was… I don't know… activated by the rubbing?" Dean grinned and chuckled, visibly straining against the joke that was pounding to get out of his mouth.

Sam smiled, shook his head thinking _damn! freakin' gutterbrain!_ and nodded, "I get it… just remember there's a kid here…"

"Right…" Dean grinned, "We have to find out what happened Sam… what… healed me and what it wants in return…"

"Well… the bell is the tie, unless it's family related… look, Emil Fredrick worked with Uncle Hiram, who was Aunt Mildred's husband… they all went to Jerusalem together, probably so they could write off the trip… the photos we managed to get of Emil's office after his "Disappearance"…showed the bell on his desk, within arms reach…" Sam mused.

"Yeah… so he's checking it out, maybe cleaning it up a bit… and what? Gets the desire to 'demand' that he turns into glass for no reason?" Dean asked skeptically.

Sam shrugged, "Maybe it's not that literal… I mean I doubt Martin 'Demanded' his family turn into statues…"

Dean shrugged, "Maybe he was thinking about what a bunch of stiffs they are…or something like that?"

"Maybe…" Sam nodded, feeling as if they were getting a little warmer in their hypothesizing, "Hey Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"When you um… when you came back…was it…Oh jeez… was it like before?" Sam asked.

"What? When the reaper…?"

"Yeah…"

"No… this felt different, kind of warm and…" he shrugged with his mouth and nodded, "…fuzzy…"

Sam squinted at him and let the smile tilt the corners of his mouth up, "Warm and fuzzy? You didn't see Snuggle did you?"

"Aww man… screw you…" he smiled and shook his head, "Y'know we still gotta get that freaky little bitch…I'm tellin' ya something's NOT right with that teddy bear…"

"Yeah alright…" Sam sniffed smiling brightly in the dimly lit room, "…so what? We see if we can find a Synagogue and a Rabbi to talk to, or someone else who reads Hebrew to interpret what's on that bell… maybe we'll get lucky there… and then we can find out how to undo this thing and give Martin his family back," Sam summed.

"Yep, about like that…" Dean agreed and moved the wrong way sending the chair under his feet shooting across the room, "Damnit… alright that's it… move your ass over Sam," he instructed walking around to the far side of the bed and stretching out beside his brother, "Ahhh that's better…"

Sam reached over and shut off the light, "Night Dean…" _I'm glad you're not dead man… I don't care how, I don't care what…I'm just glad you're not dead._

He lay quiet next to his brother for a while, his mind traveling back to all the 'moments' that meant so much as they accumulated through the years. The birthdays Dean never forgot, the holiday's he'd tried so hard to make something out of, just so Sam could have some semblance of normalcy; the time Dean took Sam to pick up his tux for the Junior Prom he'd been invited to while they were in West Virginia. Dean had ducked into a drug store to emerge a few minutes later with a paper bag he tossed into Sam's lap. Sometimes when he thought about that moment he still blushed violently and he never failed to hear Dean's voice utter with preternatural calm, _"There are directions on the box… but I'd suggest you practice a couple times first."_

He smiled to himself, "Dean?" he said softly.

"Hmm?" his big brother grunted, his breathing already deepening.

_I love you… I'm glad you're not dead…I don't know what I'd do without you? Yeah that just sounds …Why can't I say it? Maybe it's not that he's not ready… maybe it's me?_ "I'm glad you're not dead dude…" he spit it out and let it lay between them wondering if Dean had heard him, or if he was genuinely asleep. A moment later he got his sleepy reply.

"Mmm me too man… glad you're so damned stubborn," he muttered and rolled onto his side, "Now get some sleep Sammy," _I'd say 'thanks' but until we find out what exactly healed me and what the price is gonna be… I don't want to jump the gun little brother, but just for the record… Thanks Sammy…love you man. _

_Yeah, dyin' must take it outta ya…_ Sam thought wondering exactly what they were going to find when all was said and done, and what part in all this the boy in the other bed was really slated to play. It wasn't that Sammy didn't trust the young boy, he just… _well yeah, that's pretty much it…_ Sam acknowledged to himself.

--

The room finally filled with darkness, the easy camaraderie of the Winchester brothers filling the empty spaces, Martin closed his eyes, a faint smile touching his lips as sleep crept up and took him.

--

Sam's eyes fluttered open, his heart was pounding so hard in his chest he wondered that it hadn't woken Dean up, and his head was filled with a constant thrumming unease. Something wasn't right. From the moment they received the text messaged coordinates from their dad and run across the story of an amateur archeologist who seemed to have disappeared from his office leaving behind only a couple hundred pounds of broken glass in his place, Sam hadn't liked this case, and it wasn't just because of his relatively recent experience with Austrian Crystal. There had been no windows broken, no glass near the desk or the office at all as a matter of fact, aside from a couple drinking glasses that is, and there was no explanation for over two hundred pounds of glass pieces that seemed to have been simply dumped over the chair, and said owner of the chair missing.

He and Dean had done their digging quickly and efficiently, it helped that the subject of their inquiries was a prominent man in academic circles, and that Dean's natural charm had once more worked its magic on both Emil Fredrick's secretary, who divulged quite easily that several of the artifacts they'd brought back, ostensibly for donation to a local museum, had been packed up and shipped to the Turnbull Estate, just in time for young Turnbull's 9th birthday party.

Infiltrating the premises under the pretense of being wait-staff had been relatively easy. Apparently Emma and Stephens were the only servants required for that day thanks to the catering crew and valets that had been hired.

The day had been an exercise in discomfort for the eldest Winchester brother, Sam oddly enough fell easily into the role of waiter while Dean found it a little more difficult to contain his…consternation. The saving grace for the eldest son had been making Martin's acquaintance, and though he liked the boy, he had to admit there was something unsettling about him. He'd been sitting on one of the cement walls alongside the patio stairs playing with some new kind of robo-raptor but Dean could see his attention was split between the toy and watching the young children and families present.

--

"Hey, that's pretty cool…" Dean smiled pointing to the toy as the boy was programming his personal commands into its memory.

"Yeah…" he'd nodded tilting his face up until his eyes met Deans and held them, unafraid, unflinching even.

"So… you're the birthday boy huh?"

Martin nodded and motioned to a spot next to him. Dean nodded and sat down, "So happy birthday then…"

"Thanks,"

"Y'know… not that it's any of my business dude but, this is a rockin' party… how come you're not hanging with your friends?" he asked motioning to all the children that were enjoying the day and the extremes that the Turnbull's had gone to for their young son.

Martin shrugged, "Most of those kids… they're just kids from my school… the party with my friends is gonna be on Saturday… this is just for show… for the papers…"

Dean nodded a bit, the picture coming more clearly now, "So… what? The folks get to show this great hookup in the society pages and the real fun happens over the weekend huh?"

Martin looked at him and nodded smiling, "Pretty much…"

"So what's the plan then?"

"My folks got us tickets to see Def Leppard… we're gonna have a party at Jeepers first, pizza, video games… all the good stuff then the concert, and then back home… the guys get to spend the night and if the weather holds maybe we'll go swimming in the morning… you know…" he shrugged easily and let a winsome smile play on his features.

Dean found the smile just a bit contagious, "So you're turning it into a guy's weekend?"

"Yeah… it's gonna be great…not this kind of fake 'it's all for you Damien', Omen crap… just me and my five closest friends…"

"Good times…" Dean smirked.

"So how come you're sitting here yapping with a nine year old kid instead of 'hob nobbing' with the doctoral elite?" the boy asked in a mocking snob voice.

Dean shrugged, "I can't stand doctors… they freak me out… all those tests and needles and stuff…" he shook his head and held his eyebrow cocked.

Martin turned toward him and faced him full on, he put a hand onto Dean's forearm and looked deep into his eyes, "These aren't those kinds of doctors… these are academic doctors not physicians…"

Dean grinned and Martin ducked his head with a chuckle, "…you knew that…"

"Yeah…" Dean chuckled and couldn't resist the urge to tussle the kid's hair.

When he did Martin looked at him with a curious expression and Dean apologized.

"Don't be sorry… people are so sorry to be just who they are…I hate it," he said softly and extended his right hand, "I'm Martin Turnbull…"

"Dean Winchester," he introduced taking and shaking the young mans' hand with a nod and smile that said he was impressed with the boy's decorum.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Winchester… is that as in the gun?" he asked.

"Yep… just like… but it's just Dean 'kay? Mister Winchester is my dad."

Martin nodded, "'Kay…"

Sam's lanky shadow joined the two sitting on the cement rail, "You must be Martin?" he asked.

The boy nodded.

"Happy birthday…"

"Thanks," he nodded and smiled.

"Martin this is my brother Sam… Sam, Martin Turnbull… either soon to be, or recently turned nine years old…" Dean introduced with a smile.

The two shook hands and the boy looked at Dean, "No, it's today."

--

A slant of gold pierced Sam's eyelids and the faint sound of cartoon voices drifted into his ears as he stretched out his kinks and accidentally elbowed Dean in the side.

"Nugh…dude…" Dean groaned and rolled over right off the bed and onto the floor, "Whoa!" then the 'Thdunk' followed quickly by another, "Ungh…" and finally, "Damnit!" before the sound of Sam's deep chuckles and Martin's stifled snickers came to his ears.

_Wonder if he did that on purpose…_ Sam thought sleepily as the scent of fresh brewed coffee came wafting across the motel room.

Sam got his answer when Dean sat up, leaned his arm on the bed and scratched his head comically before lurching to his feet and moving directly to the small table, and the coffee maker.

"Mmmm… coffee…" he yawned and looked at the boy who sat on the floor at the foot of the bed and had his eyes glued to the set, "You made it?" he asked filling both cups and fixing Sam's first then his own.

"Mm hmm, yeah… Emma showed me how much to use but these packets were pre-measured," he watched Dean take a tester sip then a long draught, "So… there's a Synagogue over on Marine Way… Rabbi Roseman might be able to translate the writing on the bell… or at least he might know who can…" he offered.

"Good to know…thanks…hey… it's Friday isn't it… dude you got school…don't cha?" Dean muttered.

Martin nodded, "I've got homeroom first period so if I'm a little late it's okay, long as I get there by 8:50… that's when history starts."

Dean looked at the clock and sighed, 7:20, "We can do that…but we gotta go back to your house first right? Get your stuff?"

Martin nodded.

"Sam… get a move on…" Dean called firmly and stepped into his jeans before taking another slug off the coffee.

"They have continental breakfast… you want me to go get you guys some danish's or something?" Martin offered.

Dean cocked an eyebrow and Martin was off like a shot grinning as he turned at the door, "Be right back…Oh hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're not dead too…" he said shyly and bolted through the door.

"Me too…" he nodded after the boy then sat drawing on his socks and shoes as Sam emerged from the bathroom with a faint ring of drying blue around his mouth.

--

tbc, if y'all still think it's worth it, please let me know.

Thank You.

:D

sifi


	4. Chapter 4

Sacrifice – chpt 4 – s.n. fic.

by: sifi

--

"Right this way gentlemen…" Rabbi Roseman smiled with just a hint of unease while ushering the Winchester brothers into his office. He pointed to his heavily littered desk and closed the door securely behind them then held up a piece of paper with a printed scan of the rubbing on it, "Listen, I'm not a linguist but you boys might be in for a heap of trouble if this says what I think it says…" he told them urgently.

"What kind of trouble?" Dean asked warily and glanced quickly from Sam to the Rabbi.

"The Powerful kind…Did you bring the original?" he asked.

Sam nodded and slid the rolled piece of parchment out of his bag then slid off the rubber band as if it were an original scroll from Nag Hamadi, and gingerly laid it flat.

_Damn my boy's got a knack! He's almost got me thinking it's a priceless relic…_ Dean smiled appreciatively to himself.

"I'm certainly not a historian or anything but this is in excellent condition!" he exclaimed while shaking his head, "…where did you say you got it?" he asked rubbing his hand over his ruddy and sweat damp forehead before assuring himself that his yamulke was still firmly pinned to the three hairs on his head.

"It was in a trunk in the attic… I think it belonged to our Grandfather…" Sam half stammered with a shrug.

Rabbi Roseman looked from Sam to Dean and back again, finally deciding he would believe the younger Winchester for the moment.

"Do you have any idea where or when this rubbing might have been made?" he asked moving quickly to the window where he shut the blinds then looked out between them, a sure sign of outright fear that neither young man failed to notice.

"Well the trunk had a bunch of International Travel stickers on it… I think probably from when they went to Jerusalem…" Dean said and looked questioningly at Sam who nodded and shrugged his concurrence.

On the way to the synagogue they'd worked out how they were going to play this.

--

EARLIER THAT MORNING…

"…yeah well if this thing IS from Jerusalem… and if this thing IS behind these wishes coming true or demands being met… or whatever… it needs to be… not accessible…" Dean urged glancing at Sam who was nodding.

"I agree… so…what? Grandma and Grandpa were world travelers and we found this while going through some of their stuff?" Sam asked.

Dean chewed his lower lip and glanced at the rolled parchment, "It doesn't really look like it could pass for fifty or sixty years old does it?" he asked.

"Okay so it was buried deep in some old steamer trunk or something…wrapped in layers of stuff… protected…do you really think we should lie?" Sam asked then nodded his head, "…I guess we don't have much choice…at least until we know what this says…"

"Yeah well I hate to break it to you Sam… but you get the big ones…with those puppy dog eyes of yours…Besides, if it turns out to be nothing, we can come clean alright?" Dean smirked.

"Yeah alright…" Sam smiled, "Dean?"

"Yeah?" he glanced into his little brothers' eyes.

"I don't like this one… it feels…I don't know…"

"Like it might be big?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam nodded relieved that Dean understood and somehow more at ease than he'd been just a moment ago.

Dean nodded and pulled the car into a space, he took a breath and sighed it out while grinning at his little brother, "Show time…"

--

RABBI ROSEMAN'S OFFICE.

The Rabbi nodded, momentarily lost in thought, "Have you told anyone else about this?" he asked and received double barreled suspicious stares from both brothers.

"Rabbi what is it exactly that you suspect? You're making us a little nervous with all this… cloak and dagger crap…" Dean stepped forward and edged just a bit in front of Sam and swallowed hard.

Rabbi Roseman met his eyes and seemed to genuinely 'see' the man before him then he huffed a chuckle, "Yes, I suppose this does seem a little unusual… I'm sorry… it's just that…" he turned toward the parchment and pointed at it while looking at Sam, "… it would help if I could fold this… do you mind?" he asked.

Sam shrugged, "Not at all."

Again the Rabbi huffed nervous humor and thought, _These boys have no clue whatsoever, my God if this is real…heh…my God… heh yeah…_

A few deft motions later and the Rabbi had the paper folded and rolled into a cone with the edges of the rubbing touching one another, "Was there anything else in the trunk? A bell perhaps?" he asked.

Dean shook his head, "I didn't see one…. Sam?"

"No… but it's not like we've gone through everything yet…" Sam shrugged then looked at the man who was now at his side, "Why Rabbi? What is it?" he asked.

He passed the paper to Sam and looked between the boys, "When you put the edges together you can see the shape of a bell right?"

Sam and Dean nodded.

"How familiar are you boys with the scriptures?" he asked.

Dean cocked an eyebrow, "Well if you're talking about floods and plagues and stuff… fairly, but if you're talking about all that begat-ing in the beginning…personally, I kinda skipped over most of that…"

"Me too…" Sam admitted sheepishly.

Rabbi Roseman nodded and smiled, "I don't blame you for that… actually what I'm talking about is the tower of Babel…"

"Oh yeah… they almost made it to heaven but God got pissed and knocked it down right?" Dean asked.

Both the Rabbi and Sam looked at him surprised.

"That's the one…in the 1990's archeologists found a mound in Syria that they're attributing to Babylon… so it's possible that while on an excursion your Grandfather could've gone to Syria…but that's neither here nor there… the thing you have to know about the tower, about its creation at least in the Rabbinical sense… is that it was created as a means for man to charge the heavenly realm and wage war on God…" he looked at both Sam and Dean then continued when he was certain he had their full interest.

"I thought it was built so that man could aspire to his own Godhood?" Sam asked surprising both his brother and the Rabbi.

Rabbi Roseman shook his head, "Not according to any of the accounts I've ever come across… though in all fairness, I never gave much thought to the whole thing until you faxed the copy of that rubbing to me…"

"What does it say?" Sam asked softly.

The Rabbi looked around nervously and drew the boys to the desk where he spread open the rubbing once more and pointed to a thicker band of characters where the apex of the bell would be, "See this?" he asked and nodded as they did, "…basically it says 'Property of Nimrod'… in the modern vernacular…"

"Nimrod?" Dean questioned and looked at Sam who nodded.

"Yeah, he was a Mesopotamian king, the first after the flood right?" Sam asked and got an impressed nod from Rabbi Roseman.

"Right… he was Noah's great grandson according to some texts, his son according to others but that's neither here nor there… the fact is that depending on which text you read he either wanted to wage war against God and built the tower to do so, OR when he realized what the builders really wanted he turned his back on them and separated himself from them. The existence of the bell could actually resolve the issue…" he babbled, and chuckled excitedly.

"How so?" Dean asked.

"Well you won't find it in any text that's openly available that's for sure… but there's an account that when Nimrod turned his back on the builders of the Tower of Babel, that God rewarded him for his humility before him, by giving him a bell with which to… manifest… his needs…"

Sam and Dean shared a confused look and the Rabbi could see their familial relationship, it seemed for the moment that he could see far more than he wanted to, the man was terrified and growing moreso with every passing moment. If these boys were right, and if his interpretation was right, he had to fight the urge to fall to his knees before them.

_But they said they didn't see it… They could be lying… but why would they? My God if they've touched something that Holy… from the hand of God himself passed into human possession…It's too much… I can't think about it… I can't even begin… Dear God watch over these boys!..._

"So what? you ring for service and God comes down and says what can I do for you?" Dean asked skeptically, _Sounds more like some kind of demon trick if you ask me…_ he thought.

Rabbi Roseman burst out a nervous laugh, "Not quite… not quite… but the ringing… the ring is… it's supposed to be… the voice of God… the thing of it is it's not supposed to be audible to mortal ears..."

"Wait a minute, it's a bell… if it's real that is… some kind of metal… or ceramic, or something and a clacker inside that makes it ring… the only way it's not going to be audible is if there's no clacker right? I mean otherwise that's just goes against all the laws of physics since we don't live in a vacuum…" Dean questioned and caught a glimpse of Sam's expression changing from a wincing, 'we're busted' look to one of relief when he covered his tracks by mentioning the possibility that the bell could be made of clay or ceramic material rather than just metal.

"God can do whatever it wants… that's why it's God son…" the Rabbi scrubbed his face with his hands and wiped them on his suit pants. It was obvious he was still nervous but he did appear to have calmed somewhat.

"So… why would God put something like this into the hands of a human… I'm supposing Nimrod was human after all right?" Sam asked.

The Rabbi shrugged and nodded, "For as mortal as biblical era humans were… I mean look at Methuselah... close to a thousand years old…"

Sam nodded and forced a nervous chuckle from himself, suddenly sweating so profusely he could feel his clothes soaking it up even as the drops ran down his back and sides, "Well, all this is kind of a moot point anyway right? I mean without an actual bell to hold in your hand for confirmation…" he shrugged.

"Wouldn't something like that… if it really existed… that would be a very dangerous thing to have in the hands of any living person don't you think?" Dean asked glancing curiously at his brother who was sheened in perspiration, his hair growing more damp by the second.

"Dangerous? Dangerous! It would be disastrous my boy! Absolutely disastrous… it would topple civilization as we know it for any one person to have that level of power…" Rabbi Roseman scoffed and looked at Sam, putting a hand onto his shoulder as his breathing started coming in shorter spurts, "Are you alright son?" he asked.

Sam nodded, and winced, pinching the bridge of his nose and squinting his eyes shut, "Yeah…" he ground out as Dean wrapped his arm around his little brother and looked apologetically at the Rabbi.

"He gets cluster migraines…" Dean explained and started to turn Sam toward the door.

The Rabbi dodged to the table and grabbed the parchment with the rubbing on it. He quickly rolled it and slid it into Sam's messenger bag, "Take this… I don't want it… I don't want to see it again… if you're smart boys, you'll burn that thing… and if you find a bell with writing that matches that rubbing… find some way to destroy it…" he felt the words rupture from his mouth and couldn't have stopped them if he'd wanted to, which part of him did.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked turning back and eyeing him curiously.

"Something like that… the historical implications are astounding purely for academic reasons but if it were to actually exist… and anyone found out about it… well…" he shrugged.

Dean nodded, he understood, "Absolute power…"

"Yeah," the man of religion nodded and muttered a long stream of Hebrew behind them as Dean supported Sam out of his office and down the hall.

_Man I hope that's some kind of blessing…_ Dean thought while setting his little brother into the passenger seat of the car and buckling him in.

--

tbc…

Let me know what you're thinking please… I'm extremely curious.

(For the record… The Bell of Babel does NOT exist…it is a fabrication of sifi's own imagination… just so you know)

thanks

sifi.


	5. Chapter 5

Sacrifice – chpt 5 – s.n. fic.

by: sifi.

--

"What is it Sam?" Dean asked worriedly as he slid into the drivers seat and looked at his little brother.

Sam shook his head, "I'm not sure…"

"A vision?" Dean asked.

"No, I was…I had to get out of there…it just…it felt like I was on fire…" Sam looked at his big brother who sat waiting for an explanation. Sam took a painfully quick hard breath and wiped his dripping face with the sleeve of his jacket, "I can't stop sweating… Rabbi Roseman… it's like I could feel his fear Dean… he's terrified that this thing exists."

"Which it does…" Dean added.

"God my heart's pounding a mile a minute…" Sam breathed hard as Dean pressed his fingers to his neck.

Dean's heart skipped a beat, his little brothers' pulse wasn't so much a series of distinctive beats as it was a vibration in his throat, "Talk to me Sammy…what's goin' on?" he asked, his concern almost tangible.

Sam shook his head, "I don't know…" he gasped and pushed his back against the seat with his eyes closed, struggling for a breath that when it finally came, and came deeply enough, he slumped against the seat and seemed to sigh in relief.

"Sam?" Dean asked as his little brother drew in a deeper breath and nodded his head, seeming to relax a bit.

"Yeah… I'm okay…" he looked into Dean's eyes and nodded with a faint smile at the concern he saw there, "Really… that was weird…"

Dean shook his head, his expression all too easily read.

"I don't know… One minute he was talking about Methuselah and then… when he thought about the bell existing… it was, panic city man… it rolled off him like freakin' waves Dean… and I just broke out into a sweat and I think I kinda almost saw things…" he tried to explain and leaned back grimacing with his eyes closed, and pressing himself forcefully back into the seat while his breathing sped up again.

His brother's distress at even relaying how the feeling had started didn't go unnoticed, Dean shook his head laying one hand on Sam's shoulder and holding his head with the other, "Alright, t'salright Sammy… just… push it out… push it away for a minute man, come on…" Dean urged.

"I'm tryin' man… really… just get us the hell out of here Dean… please…" Sam gasped for air again, gulping at it desperately in fact as Dean nodded and started the car.

"Okay… yeah… let's get out of here… if you can't get a grip on this Sam I'm taking you to the hospital so you'd better just…" he warned pulling out onto the street where to his amazement Sam's breathing started to even out and come easier

"Sam?... How're you doin'?" he asked a few minutes later as his little brother slumped between the seat and the door, his breathing near normal and the sweat beginning to dry. He nodded though his eyes were still closed and a tiny, I-was-getting-worried-for-a-second smile tilted his lips.

"Okay…I'm'onna be 'kay…" he assured softly before his head dropped to the side and he fell into an exhausted sleep.

--

Sam Winchester walked slowly up a bright arid plateau, the sun was golden and hot, beating hard into his back and the sky before him was deep blue and whispering promises of cool to come. _Hey Dean… what're you doing here?_ he thought as he drew up to the man who stood still surveying the land beneath his feet.

He cast his glance sideways and felt the smile of camaraderie die on his lips. To his right stood a large man, kingly in stature and carriage with eyes as dark as coffee and a palpable aura of power surrounding him.

"My king…" he felt his lips say, "…what troubles you?"

The towering dark skinned man smiled, his teeth seeming whiter than they were against the deep color of his skin, "I am not troubled Etemenanki… I am pondering the possibilities…"

"The possibilities of what my king?" he asked following the penetrating gaze out into the valley floor below.

"In past ages of man, a king built a temple in that valley… the temple of the Seven Lights of the Earth… it was a temple so vast it nearly breeched the heavens…" he said, the sound of hope and glory ringing from his chest.

"My king… the temple of the Seven Lights of the Earth is a myth… a fable told to children…" Sam felt himself say, although he no longer felt quite like himself. In fact he began to feel something moving within him, something uncoiling deep inside, whether inside his mind or his bowels he was unable to say. Still despite the unease of the sensation he found himself smiling, knowing everything was going to turn out just as it should. An idea passed through his mind, a mere shadow that trickled from these lips that were not his, and he listened, and watched, fascinated.

"My men have discovered ruins my old friend… proof that such a temple was once built…" the king beside him spoke, his lips still smiling and his heart light with joy.

"If this is true my king… and it is not you whom I doubt, then you must have come upon this destiny righteously… it is you who must re-form the temple, you must pierce the heavens my king and take your rightful place... as the greatest leader of men…"

The king turned his head, his eyes narrowing incredulously, "Breech the heavens… stand beside the Gods themselves and proclaim myself the greatest leader of men… nay my friend, such an action would bear only sour fruit… my people would suffer the wrath brought upon them by my pride? Nay... it shall not come to be…" the king shook his head.

_Thank God for that…_Sam thought and felt his mouth move once more.

"There would be no wrath my king… the Gods would welcome any man who would dare such an endeavor with welcome arms as one of their own!" and Sam wanted to clamp his hand over those traitorous lips but the body was not his to command.

The king looked at him, weighing his words for merit and finding them substantial as he nodded softly and raised an eyebrow, intrigued, "You know such thing for fact Etemenanki?"

"Yea my king… does not fortune favor the bold? And are you not the boldest of the kings of men?" the thing Sam was wearing persisted.

The king beside him grinned hugely, his smile one to rival the sun, "I am that my old friend… for all my people sing so it must be true!" he laughed then, a rich warm sound and turned his face to the sun to descend from the pleateu and meet his new valley. His hand clapped hard on the shoulder Sam was wearing and the young Winchester felt his feet slide out from under him leaving only air beneath as he fell back, his head spinning with the realization that he was about to plummet to his death from the crest of a plateau in a foreign land and an even more foreign time.

--

"Sammy!" Dean hollered half panicked as his brother's dead weight pulled at his quickly slicking hand, "God! Sammy! Please!... Help me!" he pleaded wishing he could grasp at the roof with his toes and spare his other hand. Slowly he began to inch backward, dragging his chest against the edge of the rooftop, the aluminum of the gutter ripping across his skin through his t-shirt, "Sam!" he yelled again as his second hand that he'd been using for balance and ballast reached out and caught him by the wrist just as his first hand slid down to his fingers. He felt himself dragging forward as Sam's weight pulled him toward the edge, "Sammy please…" he gasped wiping the sweat from his hand and grasping the wrist with both hands, if Sam was going to fall he was going with.

He was dragged another inch that felt like a mile forward and felt Sam shudder in his grip before he drew a breath and his tenor shouted fearfully, "Dean! What the hell!"

"Sam! Sam… get your ass up here now!" Dean ordered and felt his brothers fingers wrap around his wrist vise-like.

"What the hell's going on?" Sam asked swinging his leg up and over the edge of the rooftop and grasping Dean's upper arm for stability while he tossed the rest of himself onto the hot asphalt.

Dean lay gasping over the edge of the roof uncertain if he was going to faint first or throw up, _I hope I puke first… then that'll be over...jeez…what the hell? What happened? How'd he get up here so fast? Man, what's happening to you now Sam?_

"Dean?" Sam asked wrapping his arms across the older man's shoulders and unbending him from the edge of the roof, "Dean what happened?" he asked after turning his big brother's dumbfounded face to his and searching his eyes.

To his surprise Dean actually laughed as his eyes filled, "You're asking me?" he said disbelieving.

Sam shook his head and dared a peek over the edge. _From the rooftop, four stories looks like a hell of a drop,_ he thought wondering how he'd come to be all the way up here when the last thing he remembered was feeling like he was going to pass out in the car.

"Let's get back to the room then you can tell me what the hell just happened," Sam's voice trembled just a bit as he met Dean's eyes once more and saw just how close each of them had come to losing everything. The knowledge was accentuated when with his arm over his shoulders, guiding him toward the rooftop access stairwell Sam realized his big brother was shaking and most definitely in shock.

--

"…damnit! aren't those things supposed to be folded over at the edges? Man I just got the last of Eddy Jay's palm print off my damned chest and now this? Damnit this sucks!" Dean railed standing in front of the bathroom mirror dabbing at the oozing slice and scrape across his upper belly where the aluminum had cut him. "…Do you even remember what you were dreaming about?" he asked meeting Sam's eyes in the mirror.

Sam shook his head and seemed dazed, "…I remember falling…then… I woke up…and a mesa or something… and the sun was hot on my back... I… I got nuthin'…" he shook his head despondently in the doorway and wondered how many times now it was that he owed his life to his big brother.

"What?" Dean asked while dotting himself with band-aids wherever he thought the cuts were worthy, then dabbed triple antibiotic ointment onto the other open areas before sliding a fresh shirt over his head.

"Okay… we were talking to the Rabbi about Methuselah… then I couldn't breathe… we left, and I could breathe again… you brought us back to the motel…"

Dean nodded, "Tossed your passed out ass onto the bed. I went out to get some ice, came back… your ass was still in the bed, went to the bathroom, got out your ass was gone, the door was wide open and you were already at the third floor landing…I swear to God Sam, I've never seen you sleepwalk man… it was the creepiest damned thing I've ever seen… you kept babbling on about 'my king this… my king that…'" he groused rubbing his face vigorously with his hands. When he met Sam's eyes again he could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"My king?" Sam asked, his face frozen deep in thought as if the slightest movement would blow away whatever thread of memory was almost within reach. "My king, my king… the Temple of the Seven Lights of the Earth…it's a fable… fortune favors the bold…" he muttered and swallowed hard before raising his eyes and meeting Dean's patient gaze, "I think I was someone else… I think I was looking down at the valley that cradled Babylon…" he mused and continued at his big brother's skeptical look, "… I heard that bell Dean… when Martin called for me after you were pushed down the stairs, I set it down but when I got up my knee caught on the rim of the table and… damn thing still hurts… it must've been knocked over or jarred just enough for it to ring, but I HEARD it ring… and then I saw you laying there and all I could think was, 'don't you dare be dead! don't you dare die on me…' and like I said, I couldn't' find your pulse because you didn't HAVE one…"

"But what's the price Sam? There's always a price! You know that as well as I do… if that thing is what the Rabbi says it is…"

Their eyes met as their minds made the same connection, "…and it's sitting on the table…" Sam groaned.

"We gotta go…" Dean urged grabbing his jacket and swinging into it even as Sam slid his on and they both headed for the door, Sam carrying the duffel bag with their weapons in it. Neither of them had forgotten about the manifestation that pushed Dean down the stairs, the being that was the reason they'd taken Martin with them to a motel rather than staying in his glorious and somehow hollow manor. Dean looked at his watch, 12:33, Martin wouldn't be done with school until 2:50, and then he had soccer practice until 4:30, so the Winchester brothers had time. Now all they had to do was get past the servants that were bound to be back to duty today.

--

tbc.

As always, need to know what you're thinking,

Please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi


	6. Chapter 6

Sacrifice – chpt 6 – s.n. fic.

by: sifi

--

"Dean…" Sam said softly while taking in the carnage. Beside him, Dean nodded.

"Yeah…bad… in so many ways, just…" he held out his hand sensing Sam about to move, "…don't move… we don't need traceable shoe prints…" he said moving quickly and carefully across the foyer, toward the dining room where he knew Sam had left the bell, "Keep the gun up Sam…that…thing could still be around here…"

"Dean…" he said, this time a sense of warning in his voice.

"I will… you too…gimme three minutes…"

Sam nodded keeping his eyes peeled up the staircase and alternately between the halls on either side of it while Dean stepped on cats' paws around the limbs and pools of liquid leathery blood that Pollock'd the marble flooring. From his vantage he could see a black clad leg on the right hand side of the staircase and what he thought might be the head of a humerus _Or it could be the head of a femur…hard to say from this angle…_ he thought as the scent of hot copper, underlaid with the all too easily discernable fragrance of rotting meat meandered into him. _God… Dean hurry up man… I don't know how long I can hold my hurl…what did this?_ he wondered as the pure savagery of the attack left him shaking his head.

It started as a pinch in the area of his third eye, the pinch rapidly progressing into a poke and finally ending with the sense of some enormous spike being driven into his forehead, a crude heavy iron nail, a precursor to perhaps the kind the Romans had used to crucify Jesus felt hammered, millimeter by millimeter into his head and he fell to his knees, the shotgun a distant and unacknowledged memory in his right hand as seething hatred swirled around him, silver turned fire orange with fury as impotent rage sounded and rolled within his skull but there was more; coupled, married to the rage was despairing grief for a blood line lost to folly and he knew nothing as his 21st century body screamed inside of itself at time, fate and pride, his mind was cast back once again to a time long before his own.

--

"My lord, I can only feel the righteousness of your quest… the Gods themselves will sing your praises… only the most fearless of men would dare to breech the heavens! Think of what this will mean to the generations to come… Your words, your WILL transmitted to the heavens… your glory my King!" Sam felt his mouth say, though once again he found himself unable to keep from speaking.

_Please don't listen to him! Please… my king! King Nebuchadnezzer please do not heed his folly…I beg you ... keep your own council! Please!..._ Sam Winchester felt himself plead and knew it was futile. History had already been written.

--

Dean slid stealthily through the swinging door into the formal dining room where he knew Martin Turnbull's family had last been whole.

He knew they'd been turned to stone, he knew they were statues but the devastation he saw upon entering the formal dining room was almost too much for even his finely honed hunter's senses. It was his humanity that buckled when he found himself confronted with piles of rubble where the statues had been left behind. _Ah no… can we undo this?... these people… Martin's family…please don't let this be unfixable…_ he pleaded inside, feeling empathy sting at the back of his eyes as his lips pressed together, wondering how he was going to break it to the boy if they couldn't find a way to bring them back. _It's supposed to be the voice of God… It's supposed to manifest needs and a boy needs his family! _he swept his gaze over the table, in particular the area Sam had been sitting that night. _It's not here… Damnit! I KNEW it! I FREAKING KNEW it was gonna be gone… who the hell else…? That thing…whatever it was that pushed me down the stairs? But Why? I don't understand… unless it can use the bell… oh shit no… we gotta fix this and destroy that damned thing!_ he began to understand the Rabbi's fear as he ducked to all fours and examined the floor just to make sure it hadn't fallen or rolled from the table. _Could be buried under one of the piles that used to be PEOPLE! I need Sam…_ "Sam!" he called.

He heard the door to the dining room open as he approached the pile of rubble nearest Sam's position the other night and raised his hand to sift through it then stopped, "Dude, do you think it'll make much difference if we…" he stopped and swallowed hard then shook his head in a 'yes/no' gesture, "…sift through the pieces? I mean…" his breath caught as something grasped his ankles and jerked his knees out from under him then dragged him from beneath the table while his hands clutched futilely at the woolen rug held firm by the weight of the mahogany. "Sam! Get in here!" he called feeling his body slamming heavy chairs out of the way as he was dragged the length of the table, finally his hands finding purchase on one of the legs as he fought against his attacker.

The last time something had managed to grab him like that he'd wound up in a subterranean cell for two days terrified that every breath Sam drew was going to be his last, and that there was nothing he could do to save him. The time Laura threw him out of the veiled realm didn't count… she hadn't hurt him nor intended anything other than to protect him.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled trying to pull himself free of the monstrous grip that just wouldn't be escaped, "Let go of me you bastard!... Sam! If you hurt my brother I'll send you straight to hell!" he cursed and lost his grip on the table leg.

The world spun upside down for a moment as his body was slammed into a wall and held there, pinned to the hard plaster surface and turning like the second hand on a wall clock until he was upright again and staring into seething silver eyes that appeared to move within themselves as if they were made of rolling smoke. The face before him was furious but despite the rage that seemed to bathe him in fiery heat he couldn't feel any genuine or personal malice aimed at him.

"Wha…what are you?" he stammered then steeled, "…if you hurt my brother…so help me God… I'll find a way to…" he stopped as the face before him cocked a brow ridge expectantly, a thoroughly human gesture that took him completely off guard and sent chills up his spine, "…kill you…" he finished weakly and watched as the mouth of the disembodied swirling smoky head opened, the representation of lips rolling back in what Dean was more than certain would have been a belly laugh of epic proportions if it could have made the sound. Dean smiled awkwardly with a nodding shrug, _Okay… at least it's not trying to rip my organs out through my skin… that's a plus…I hope…Please Sammy be okay… Please man… whatever funky stuff's happening to you, please just be alright... God we need to find that bell and get all this stuff fixed then destroy it…_

The silvery smoky head tilted to the side, its brow ridges seeming to furrow, as if it heard his thoughts. The image swirled back from him and began to change shape, bowing here and pulling there until it was a representation of the front hall, complete with image of Sam on his side but Dean couldn't tell if that meant he was dead or unconscious. He strained against the invisible force holding him to the wall but he was no more successful in the face of this being than he'd been against Big Bad, "Is he alive?" he demanded, "What did you do to him!"

The creature's representation began to alter again, it became a larger version of Sam that showed exaggerated breathing movements, communicating in the only way it could.

Dean watched carefully and noted the movement, "He's alive?...what did you do to him!" he asked wincing as the portion of the entity that gave the illusion that it was Sam's head literally superimposed itself over Deans.

He opened his eyes slowly having felt nothing horrible, terrifying or painful like when Eddy Jay had laid all those atrocities into his mind and left him drowning in it.

This time what he was seeing was a plateau with an enormous valley spread out below, all in varying shades of swirling grayish silver. He could see the occupants of the valley busy, bustling here and there, building the foundations of what was certain to be a great city in due time, "Wow…" he breathed impressed with the scope and scale that was represented to him, "…a vision… you gave him a vision?" he asked as the images faded and the silver mist coalesced well away from him now, to become the face it had been in the beginning.

"What do you want?" Dean asked and felt the pressure holding him against the wall ease enough for him to regain his footing on the floor. Part of him was tempted to dodge the hell out of there and get to Sam, but he didn't think that this little bit of trust would be best served that way. Though he had no reason to feel that this entity meant no malice, other than the fact that it hadn't killed him or Sam yet _Or so it said… it could be lying… yeah it could but I don't think so…_ it was definitely making effort to communicate far beyond the standard parameters of the average ghost, poltergeist, or angry spirit. That fact alone gave Dean Winchester serious pause for consideration.

Once again the head seemed to listen to his internal workings then began to shift its form again, this time showing Dean a different perspective on this afternoon's rooftop encounter. He saw himself racing across the roof as the image of his little brother turned to face him and nearly flew back as though knocked over. He saw himself reach out, his hand grasp Sam's wrist as his body fell hard onto the surface of the rooftop, his hand holding his brother, his hand the only thing between Sam and a deadly plummet.

"Help!... You want help…" he realized, "…so when you pushed me down the stairs you weren't trying to kill me?" he asked watching the smoke alter yet again, returning to the face he was beginning to see more details of, and he recognized the scowl that told him, 'no' it hadn't been trying to kill him.

"Help with what?" he asked mystified.

--

His footsteps 'shooshed' down the orange hued corridor as he strode purposefully toward the nearly finished throne room where the king had summoned him.

His eyes darted left and right marking the position of the guards who stood stonily and ever observant at their posts. Neither of them made a move toward him and he knew that so far, he was still in his majesty's good graces.

"My king…" he said curiously as he drew to the pawn's side.

Nebuchadnezzer turned his head and raised his right arm, sweeping it outward toward the new city beneath their feet.

"Etemenanki my old friend… look at what you have inspired… the Temple of the Seven Lights of the Earth is being re-born… we shall grace the heavens ourselves and bask in the glory of the Gods themselves… My kingdom Babylon will live in homage to the Gods of creation and will be the greatest city in all the known world… people will come from all the corners just to stand on its blessed soil… and all this you inspired my friend," he smiled dropping a warm hand onto the shoulder Sam wore.

_NO! Well okay, build the city but DON'T build the tower! Please… Oh God help me get through to him…but I can't and I can't change history and I know it… Why am I seeing this? Why? What am I supposed to be learning from this? _he pleaded inside, flexing the muscles of his memory to glean some understanding of why he was having these visions of such a far away past, and how it could pertain to what they were up against in the 21st century. Sam felt Etemenanki turn his head and felt his eyes fall into the deep coffee colored eyes of Nebuchadnezzar. He felt himself lurch and the world spun madly for a moment all around him, _Oh great another chance for psychic spew…man that's nauseating…_ he thought taking in his new position.

Before him an older king of Babylon paced forcefully across the open air balcony, his hair was now lightly salted and his body, though still more than formidable seemed just a little softer, his face a little more inscribed by time. Behind him the fabled tower reached upward, so tall already that its pinnacle could not be seen within the confines of the opening in the wall. _How far along are they?_ Sam wondered and tried to rise to his feet, tried to gain or exercise some control over the body he inhabited but all he could do was sit helplessly inside this husk and watch as history unfolded all around him.

_What good is it for me to see this if I can't change anything?_ he questioned angrily.

"My king this…tragedy is lamentable surely… yet do you not think these men, who've given their lives to build the tower would desire for you to stop now? When you are so very close to the heavens where they have strove so hard to put you?... Nay my king… conversely… perhaps it is time to redouble the efforts of the men… they can taste the pinnacle at hand… to delay would be to steal the very heart from their breasts my king…" _Oh my God would you shut up! Stop it! Jeez man don't listen to this b.s. he's full of crap! He's just trying to manipulate you! Don't fall for it… Please!_ Sam groaned inside his head wondering how anyone could fall for such duplicity then realizing that it was only the distance of history that gave him the ability to perceive the manipulation, and he felt just a little ashamed at himself. _But what about the bell? Where, well when…there's still so far to go…_ he realized.

Sam knew he was going to have to watch this tragedy unfold to completion before he could fully understand what it all meant. He knew that somehow he would be here when the tower was struck down once more, and the greatest metropolis in biblical history fell to ruin, but what he didn't know was whether he would survive it. After all, he'd never heard of Etemenanki, that he knew of.

--

tbc,

I think I may have given away too much, have I made it too obvious?

Please let me know what you're thinking,

Thanks,

sifi


	7. Chapter 7

Sacrifice – chpt 7 – s.n. fic.

by: sifi

--

Dean knelt at the sixth crate digging through styrofoam peanuts, bubble wrap and plastic air packs with one hand while the other held his cell phone to his ear, "…I don't think so Sam… I mean I've got a pile of artifacts to go through here… and I wouldn't know the difference between Babylonian and Akkadian if my life depended on it… I think you should be doing this digging and I should be in the library…" he paused and sat up straight, "…did I really just say that?... Sheesh," he shook his head.

"Dude you don't have to recognize or interpret the languages…"

"Well thank God for that… I mean where the hell is Daniel Jackson when you need him? Probably off planet somewhere…" he muttered answering his own question.

"Who?" Sam asked on the other end of the line.

"Nevermind… I mean Sam there's things here… bronze cylinders with scrimshaw …stories on 'em, it's like heiroglyphics… I can't read any of this stuff…" he set the most recent acquisition on the floor and took several pictures of it with his phone.

"Who expects you to be able to read it? Look we both know most of the stories and myths from that time were pictorial, it wasn't uncommon to have scrimshaws that relayed fables and histories, you're getting pictures right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah… I'm getting 'em… dude we have got to get this thing back…"

"I know… right now though we have to figure out who or what we're dealing with… Why the hell am I stuck inside Etemenanki, whoever he was…and just what the hell was that entity that asked for your help…and can we trust it…" Sam added that last softly.

"I trust mine more than yours Sam… but it said it gave you the vision so there must be something you can get from this Etemenanki's perspective… what is it with Eddy's? I mean it's ETE but it's still Ete… jeez man talk about history repeating itself…" he stopped short and drew a breath as a spark seemed to ignite in his mind.

"Oh man…"

"Oh man…" they said together.

"Dean you don't think…? I mean these are Akkadian, Babylonian people… you don't think they've been tied to that thing all this time?"

"What? and they're trying to re-live the whole thing?" Dean asked feeling it wasn't quite right.

"Or trying to stop it from happening again… which would explain why your Mr. Misty would've been the one giving me the visions IF he's the benign one…"

"You don't think it's…Nebuchadnezzar?"

"…Nebuchadnezzar…" they said together again.

"Dude you're creepin' me out…" Dean huffed.

"Tell me about it…Dean… oh man… Dean…" Sam breathed hard on the other end of the line and Dean thought that somehow, he could almost feel the sudden onset of his little brother's anxiety, "I told you I didn't like this one Dean… I told you it felt too big…" his voice was edged but at least it wasn't jagged. Sam was holding together just like Dean knew he would.

"Calm down Sammy… just stay calm okay… we handle this just like anything else… of… biblical proportions…oh man…" he sighed and sat on his heels.

"Dean?" Sam said softly.

"Yeah…"

"We have to go back to the beginning… the case that brought us here…"

"Emil Fredericks," Dean nodded.

"Yeah… look I'm not that far from his office, once I've gotten everything I can over here, and after my appointment with the administrator of the Antiquities department at the museum I'll get into his office and see what I can find out…"

"Alright good…" Dean nodded and rubbed his eyes as a crate on the far side of the storage room caught his attention and he moved hastily to it scowling, "Huh…"

"What?" Sam asked.

"Not sure yet… get whatever you can Sammy… I'm sending the pictures to you so you can print 'em off… if I find something I'll call you 'kay?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah… likewise… otherwise I'll see you back at the motel… hey Dean?"

"Martin, I know…" he checked his watch, "…he said he'd go right to the motel… hey Sam?" he asked tracing the stenciling on the side of the crate.

"Yeah?"

"I can't believe I'm going to say this… but if you get back there before me, and Martin's there… be careful around him… for all we know he could have…"

"Dean he's a kid! Whatever it was that tore the servants apart to the four winds and shattered those…people…his family…was a hell of a lot more powerful than a nine year old boy!" Sam protested and even though his voice held incredulity, even Dean could tell that a part of him was unnerved that only this boy had come away unscathed so far.

"I'm just saying…" he could almost feel Sam nodding his head in silent and somewhat unwilling agreement and he had no trouble seeing his little brothers' expression in his mind's eye.

"I know… and … you're right… just be careful yourself okay?"

"Yah shure yew betcha… talk to you in a little bit Sam," Dean closed his phone and finally grasped the crate, pulling it out into a clear spot on the floor and wedging the end of the pry bar under the nailed down top. "Great I ask for Daniel Jackson and I get O'Neill, two L's, instead…Yah shure yew betcha schnookums…" he snickered then addressed the crate before him, "Not that you care one way or the other… so… let's see just who Martin Turnbull Sr. is huh?" he asked the emptiness around him and when he received no protest, continued to pry the lid off the past.

--

"Hey Marty! head's up!" one of his team mates shouted as the hard quilted ball socked him smack in the face, sending him falling back on his butt. Half a dozen boys from his team broke into riotous laughter as he sat up grinning like he'd been caught peeking under the Christmas wrapping paper. He shook his head and accepted Josh Farmer's hand to return to his feet.

"Dork… what was that? A side trip to Uranus?" he asked.

"Up Your anus Josh…" he joked shoving his best friend playfully.

"You wish…"

"I guess I did kinda space out there…"

"Hey whatever man… you still kept it out of the net… that's all that matters at the end of the game…hey you wanna come over and play some video games?" he asked.

Martin nodded then stopped, "Hold on… we've got some…company for a couple days… lemme just make sure it's okay…" he dug through his backpack and brought out his cell phone while the rest of the guys passed them, heading back into the school or dispersing among cars parked and waiting for them. Many of them slapping Martin on the back with joking praise for a good save, even if it was with his face.

"Dean?... it's Martin… uh, would it matter to you if I go hang out at my friend Josh's house for a few hours?" he asked and received a curious look from his best friend.

Josh had never heard of anyone in Martin's family named Dean.

"31 East Frontage…" he relayed Josh's address and listened for a moment before frowning, "…No, we're not allowed off campus for lunch why?... Really?... You don't think it could've been… you know… that… guy we ran into the other night?" he asked painfully conscious of the strange looks his best friend was shooting at him, "Well, no… you can check with the office… they're pretty… uptight about stuff like that…okay…"

"Hey! Hey see if you can stay the night, we can get a jump on the party…" Josh suggested in a stroke of brilliance, "Come on ask!" he urged even though Martin held up a finger and scowled.

"I suppose… oh yeah… no, they won't care…and it is Friday night so no school tomorrow…" Martin added, "I mean if you don't mind… no it's cool… really…" he grinned and gave the 'okay' sign to Josh who danced a little victory dance. "I'll text you their number… okay… thanks Dean…" he smiled hugely and hung up then 'high fived' Josh.

"So who's this Dean guy anyway? Family or family friend?" Josh asked slinging his gym bag over his shoulder as they too headed toward the line of parked cars.

"I _wish_ he was family…" Martin grinned.

"Race ya?" Josh challenged and tore across the lawn with Martin at his side laughing right in step with him.

--

Sam sat on the edge of the chair, his body visibly tense, almost perfectly straight. His book bag in his lap, clutched to his chest while his eyes told anyone who cared to notice that his head wasn't exactly with his body at the moment. At a glance, the occasionally frightened little boy that he'd once been could be seen beneath the exterior of the grown man, he looked like a child called to the principal's office for some unknown offense.

_It's too much… it's just too big… isn't it bad enough we have to deal with the things we do? I mean one or two pre-Christian deities… okay… I mean Cernunnos… Morrigan… and it's not like we really had anything to do with them… they're not ours… we've got enough to contend with when it comes to the standard baddies and Big Bad…we need this like we need a hole in the head…I wonder if he knew what he was getting us into when he sent us these coordinates? Did he have a clue? Does he EVER have a clue when he sends us somewhere what he could be sending us into? Probably not… that would be just like him…but…maybe not, we're not talking about some restless spirit here we're talking about… sheesh… catastrophe of literally biblical proportions! _

"Mister Edwards…" the voice at the door said sternly, as if she'd called to him at least once, maybe twice before.

"Sorry… just thinking…" he smiled wanly and felt the warmth of the woman's smile in return. He was forgiven for being distracted.

"Right this way please," she led him into Esther Tilter's office where he grinned warmly, quite pleasantly surprised by the neither matronly/frumpy nor troll-like appearance of the woman.

"Mr. Edwards… it's a pleasure to meet you…" her voice was cultured and reminded him of butterscotch, her hand was warm and just a little rough, indicating plenty of time in the field.

"Miss Tilter… thank you for seeing me on such short notice…" he smiled and sat in the chair closest to the wall.

"I must admit I'm quite intrigued… you said some of these artifacts were headed to the museum through the Turnbull estate?" she asked.

"Yes… the Turnbull's were gracious enough to allow me to take some pictures for my paper…"

"Which is on what again?" she asked sitting in the chair beside him as he drew out a fairly hefty sheaf of printer paper with color photos on them.

"Babylonian culture, Biblical myth vs. Anthropological evidence… I'm fascinated by the myths but I'm not a linguist…" he shrugged apologetically and blushed a bit.

"Which is where I come in?" she smiled welcomingly.

"Yes ma'am," he nodded.

She fanned the pages of pictures and frowned slightly, "Camera phone?" she asked.

Sam blushed deeply and nodded, "Access to the artifacts came as a very pleasant surprise… I'm lucky I've got a camera phone…is that going to be a problem?"

She smiled easily and laid her hand atop his, "I don't think it'll be too big of a problem, I mean all you need is a basic translation… it's not as if the fate of the world hangs in the balance or anything… just your grade point average right?" she teased and somehow managed to miss the relief that swept across the young Winchester's face.

"Right," he nodded tightly and could've sworn he heard his neck creak with the motion.

--

tbc

expositional and a little slow but... necessary..

chapter 8 is fermenting

please let me know what you're thinking.

Thanks.

sifi.


	8. Chapter 8

Sacrifice – chpt 8 – s.n. fic.

by: sifi

--

"… okay wait I've seen this guy before…" Sam said with furrowed brows as he sifted through the pictures of a different cylinder.

"Right… this is Marduk the patron deity of Babylon…" Esther Tilter smiled as Sam reached for yet another picture, his confusion evident.

"But this guy... this is Etemenanki right?" he asked holding a different picture beside the one she held, "They look identical…"

"Etemenanki is just another name for Marduk…" she nodded and Sam was glad she couldn't feel his heart racing in his chest.

_Waaaay to freakin' big!_ he groaned inwardly.

"…and Marduk rose through the pantheon because of Babylon?... so where would Nimrod fit into all this?"

"Well it's a fairly well known fact that there were actually two towers of Babel, at least among historians anyway… It's said that Marduk tried to get Nimrod to charge the heavens but Nimrod wouldn't do it and so God rewarded him with the ability to manifest whatever he needed for the rest of his days… which in biblical times could've been quite a long time…"

"Right…" Sam nodded finding himself genuinely fascinated by the story unfolding around him. _I wonder if she knows about the bell…_

"… well later, when Nebuchadnezzar the 2nd discovered the ruins of Nimrod's tower…"

"Hold on a second… the story says that God knocked the tower down… was that Nimrod's or Nebuchadnezzar's?" he asked.

Miss Tilter nodded smiling, "Yes I'm afraid it's a rather persistent rumor because of its mention in the bible… but the older bibles don't even say that God himself struck down the tower… at least not in so many words… the story is used as an explanation for why there are many races and languages… but actual historical texts from the region… as well as cylinders like these tell a somewhat different story…and to answer your question… both towers fell as you well know… it's probable that one or both of them fell from all the geologic disturbances in the region…or time or simply that the materials couldn't stand up to the stresses…"

_Lady if you only knew half the things I've seen…_ he thought and nodded, "…so Nebuchadnezzar decided to re-build the tower, but this time in homage to God..."

"Right…" she smiled again and showed him yet another cylinder, "See this one here tells how Marduk was slowly elevated over time through the pantheon of deities, his status grew as did the kingdom of Babylon… Nebuchadnezzar's Babylon that is…and eventually he became the supreme God of that pantheon…"

"…well what about Enki? Wasn't he the supreme God at that time?" Sam asked, his mind swimming with all the facts he'd absorbed earlier in the day.

"Yes he was... you've done quite a bit of research haven't you?" she asked as Sam nodded and his eyes fell onto a fearsome serpentine figure on one of the cylinders, "… and is this a character in the pantheon or is this just a decoration?" he asked stroking his finger over the dragon-like frieze.

"Actually, that would be Tiamat… she's supposed to have 'roared and smote in the chaos of creation' pretty much the originator of life on the planet…"

"Lemme guess… she had a tendency to be cruel…" Sam surmised using what he knew of most 'mother nature' type deities.

Miss Tilter nodded, obviously pleased to have such an attentive companion for the afternoon, "I'm afraid you're right, she had a reputation for being quite ruthless, and more than just occasionally cruel… I'm impressed…Mr. Edwards…how long have you been studying Babylonian Deities?" she asked.

"Not long really…" he shook his head, _Oh just a couple days, but that's always the way it seems to go… but hey at least I was smart enough to take some basic theology courses in Freshman year… Easy A's…_he smiled to himself.

"Well getting back to Enki and Marduk… Enki was Marduk's father…"

"So with Marduk assuming the supreme God position…it's a case of the son surpassing the father…" Sam surmised.

"Exactly…but the interesting thing is that Enki gave the throne willingly to his son in recognition of his superiority. See Enki…" she started and sifted until she found yet another pertinent picture and pointed to a masculine figure wearing a horned headdress, "Enki was known as a peacemaker between the Gods… or between the Gods and men, pretty much wherever he was needed… he was very much a purveyor of balance, of harmony… in some histories he was responsible also for both fertility and rebirth since it was he who taught man how to utilize the Earth and replenish it so that it would always be fruitful and that man's existence would be in harmony with the world…" she nodded.

Sam shivered beside her, a chill running up his spine. He knew that almost every culture on Earth had deities that were almost identical but there was something about the figure of Enki that struck a chord. _Why does it seem like the same deities keep coming up? Even if they're from different cultures… I mean Cernunnos… hello God of fertility and rebirth… how coincidental is it? How coincidental can it really be? IS there such a thing as coincidence…I mean…threads wound around threads…I mean it looks EXACTLY like…oh man… does it mean what I think…well…how… oh man, so big… so VERY big… I can't think about this…_ he consciously pushed the thoughts into some nearby mental closet but his mouth didn't get the message.

"Enki didn't by any chance happen to be in love with Tiamat? or some other Goddess of Vengeance or something did he?" he asked having been fully informed by both Laura and Dean about what had transpired in the veiled realm between Cernunnos and Morrigan. _I wonder if she ever told Dean? Something tells me…no, huh well it's not my place…_

"Goodness no… Enki was the consort of the Goddess Inanna… She was the Goddess of love…" Esther Tilter chuckled and cast a curious glance at the young man beside her as he sighed almost with relief.

"Oh…Well… of course there is the whole Battle Maiden thing too…" she smiled.

Sam choked a bit and looked at her sidelong, "'scuse me?" he asked weakly.

"Oh yes… Inanna was as enthusiastic in battle as she was in love…" she grinned and dug up another of the pictures where she pointed out a female figure standing on the backs of two lionesses, reins in her hand and long hair flying. then slid her finger down on the same cylinder, "…and this would be Eereshkigal, Inanna's sister and Goddess of the Underworld…it's said she killed Inanna… but that's just one interpretation," she said.

--

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about…" Dean smiled finding at the bottom of the crate a large photo album bound with cord and two black, leather covered boards so that more pages could be added as desired. He sat cross legged amidst another person's prized possessions and opened the book.

The first page was age yellowed parchment inscribed in Calligraphic writing with a family tree that dated back to 1702 when the first generation of Turnbull's arrived on American soil.

The first photographs of course were from the late 19th century and as he studied the manner of dress his mind shot back to a small town in Southern Illinois and a woman named Adrienne Stevens who'd been turned into a piece of driftwood as a warning from a Dryad, _I wonder if Paul was able to get that sorted out and get his sister back… hmm I wonder if I should call him and find out…course if he didn't he might not want to be reminded about it…I could check it out without involving him I guess… yeah, I'll have to do that when this is over… _he thought knowing that by the time they'd brought Paul Photopolous to the Dryad to re-make the family deal, they'd already been fighting a very bad feeling about their friend and fellow hunter, Laura. A feeling which turned out to have had some merit behind it, _Ah, I miss her… jeez it's been what? man almost five weeks since I saw her… well at least I know she's back on top of her game… that's my girl…_ he smiled to himself and continued flipping through the pages, his mind half on the photos and the other half on his mental image of the sparkle in her eyes when he told her that she belonged to him as much as any person could belong to another. _Maybe one day we'll get the opportunity to really be together…maybe…_he thought as his eye caught on a picture taken in the early 1950's, at what appeared to be some kind of archeological dig site.

"What the hell?" he frowned and examined the faces of the two boys who stood shoulder to shoulder like brothers grinning and holding a bronze cylinder similar to any of the eight of them sitting on the floor on the other side of the storage closet. He pulled the photo gently from beneath the glued on corners that held it in place and flipped it over.

"Syria 1952… Babylon dig… Emil and Hiram … the Cylinder relates the story of Nimrod and the first tower – Donated 1952 – Metro Museum."

He turned the photo over again and gazed into the two faces then set the book down and while holding the picture in one hand started flipping through the pages scanning them quickly until he came to what he'd been looking for. He figured both boys were in the same class as children since they'd obviously been friends for that long. He scanned the photo of the twenty two faces that belonged to the 5th grade class and made sure he was reading the names with the right faces. It wasn't too difficult since each boy was at the opposite end of the alphabet and subsequently on a different line of photos.

"Son of a bitch…" he huffed almost amused as he sat back looking between the two pictures. "Sam!" he said to himself suddenly and pulled his phone.

--

"I can't thank you enough for your time Miss Tilter… it's been… somewhat overwhelming…" Sam smiled stuffing his notebook into the book bag and shaking her hand, his eyes sparkling largely in response to her enthusiasm and light flirtation. He was just glad she couldn't feel the flock of raptors that kept gnawing at his insides.

"Yes, unfortunately that's pretty much the definition of a 'crash course' isn't it?" she smiled and winked as he edged back down the hall. She continued to watch as he turned a few steps later and raised his hand in a half wave which she returned still smiling as she kept her eyes glued to his butt until he'd rounded the corner out of sight. _Oh yeah… I love 'em at that age…he's probably an all night-er too… man I love 'em at that age…_ she sighed inside and retreated to her office where the rest of her work day was largely blown in favor of lascivious daydreams.

--

Sam walked a few blocks down, enjoying the beautiful autumn day and headed toward the University where he'd planned to hang out at the coffee shop and organize both his notes and his thoughts, maybe get it all down into the computer so that when he got back to the motel later on he could just have Dean read the file rather than having to say too much aloud in front of Martin. He had to acknowledge that Dean had a point about the boy. With all the information swirling madly through his brain, both what pertained to this particular case as well as the parallels that it seemed could be drawn to their own lives, it might just be better to keep it as close to the vest as possible. So, he would get himself organized, spill what he'd learned and what he suspected into a couple different folders while he awaited the right time to get into Emil Fredrick's office.

--

A wrenching steel sound rolled through the floor above him and set his neck hairs standing on end while his finger hovered over Sam's highlighted number on his cell phone, just before the lights in the storage room started to flicker and his phone went dead. Plaster dust drifted down and ice shot through him as the door slammed shut, and the lights went out.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled fishing out his lighter and striking the wheel as he felt more plaster dust drift down to tickle his nose. "Don't even think about it… oh for the love of God don't even think about that…" he reprimanded himself as the idea of the whole stairwell coming down on him flashed through his mind.

He grasped the door knob, turned and pushed but just as he knew would be the case, it wouldn't open. He tried pulling too, just on the off chance he was trying to open it the wrong way and decided he was pretty well screwed unless his buddy Mr. Misty had shut him up in here to hide him from whatever made that chilling Godzilla-like cry.

_Deja Freakin' vous! Man I'm really starting to get a Boogeyman complex here…Damn that Kripke… guy makes a movie like that…don't think about it Dean, just don't think about it…fear manifesting… don't we get enough of that! _he growled internally and put his lighter and phone into his pockets, then prepared to charge the door, _For all the good it'll do… I'll probably wind up dislocating my shoulder… what the hell?_ he wondered as a faint orange glow grew within one of the cylinders until it was almost white. Even from a distance of several feet away he could feel the heat emanating from it and he recoiled, the brightness and heat driving him away from the door to the rear of the storage closet.

He noticed a whistling at the edge of his hearing and though he couldn't bear to look at the white hot cylinder, _How come it's not melted yet? Bronze has a very low melting point…_he wondered knowing the sound was coming from that very item. A metallic pop and wrenching sound later and he watched a stream of orange fiery fury snake its way toward him, _Ah my kingdom for a shotgun with rocksalt! Brilliant Dean… just freakin' brilliant! Or some holy water… yeah water would be good right now… son of a bitch!_ he ducked down, squeezing himself into the tightest ball he could, hoping that the thing was just trying to get out and would bypass him, but it was not to be.

He gasped and choked, feeling his airway fill with killing heat as whatever it was that had been unleashed picked him up by his neck and held him pinned to the wall. The heat spread to his lungs and he could smell something cooking before he realized it was himself.

Behind him the wall vibrated and a dull thud was felt more than heard as something struck the door, _Thank God… Hurry up Sam! I'm not the one that they're supposed to choke…crap, can't breathe…man I'm cooking in my own skin…sheesh what'd I say to that Wendigo? I taste good? Man that's really just gross…_ he thought choking and gasping for any air he could get that wasn't going to finish burning his lungs out of his body. If he'd had air enough in his searing lungs, or if whatever it was that was killing him would just back off a bit, Dean Winchester would have started to howl out the agony that was trapped inside his head and body even as his eyes darkened and he gave in to unconsciousness.

--

tbc.

Once again, kind of expositional,

hope it didn't detract from the chapter

hopefully 9 will have more action.

Please let me know what you're thinking.

Thanks

sifi


	9. Chapter 9

Sacrifice – chpt 9 – s.n. fic.

by: sifi

--

Dean felt his eye crack open and winced at the dry hot rub of his eyelid scraping over the sensitive cornea. There was coolness at his back and he was in the hallway. Above him on the staircase he could see movement, a barber pole of swirling orange and silver that seemed to dance up the stairs and disappear. He drew a breath and felt his pains come to life. His throat closed and burned even as his diaphragm spasmed and his lungs rejected his attempts to breathe. For a moment he was very much afraid as fuzzy grayness narrowed his field of vision.

_Sam? Where'd you go? or was it you Mister Misty?_ he wondered and tried to make a sound but his throat screamed a warning at him. He closed his eyes and let himself drift once more.

--

Sam cast a furtive glance down the corridor and quickly stuck his picks into the lock, opening the office door deftly and stepping inside before anyone entered the hallway.

The office looked more like it belonged to a corporate executive than an academician, furnished as it was in clean lines of black, slate gray and deep browns. The shelves were orderly and not overly stuffed with artifacts as one would expect, but Sam had seen the pictures of the office. He had an idea of what to expect when he arrived and he had a game plan.

Taking a quick look around he sighed and noticed that he felt lighter. Since he'd spent the last couple hours getting the information in his head sorted and dispersed into files on his laptop, the sense of overwhelming desperation that had been pushing so heavily on his shoulders since this case began, and even a few things that had been weighing on him from as far back as the crash, finally seemed to have lifted a little. All the concerns he'd had about what they were doing and where their lives seemed to be going were on their way to being sorted and rectified within himself instead of swirling chaotically, and it gave him a small measure of relief.

_I should've updated the file a long time ago... catharsis can be good... how does Dean keep it all so tight inside? _an image of his big brother laying on his stomach in his boxer briefs and a t-shirt, on a motel room bed, with his feet in the air and the back of his pen in his mouth as he contemplated what to write in a diary or journal came slamming through his head and he couldn't help but snicker. _That'll be the day... course then again, I didn't know he liked to read either... Jean Auel nonetheless... or watch Oprah for that matter... _he shook his head examining whatever artifacts were exhibited on the shelves, trying to find something that appeared to indicate more than just the average appreciation for things Babylonian or Akkadian. There were a three cylinders he noted and one by one began to scrutinize them trying to remember what little he'd picked up from Miss Tilter.

--

Dean felt his arm flail and groaned when the back of his hand smacked hard against the marble flooring, irritating his red and burning skin while bringing him back for a brief moment from the fire that threatened to consume him from within. He felt his hair stir in a faint breeze that seemed to carry with it a hint of moisture. Slowly he felt his head turn instinctively toward that soothing cool and as his eyes cracked open once more he saw a cloud of silver moving of its own accord down the stairs to coalesce and hover above him, that face he recognized as the one that had asked him for help, grimaced at the sight he must make and began a slow descent over him until he was safely entombed within the whole of its presence.

He felt his heart tremble just a bit as the cloud descended upon him and even as he breathed it in, felt it soothe his scorched mouth and throat and finally move into his lungs, making the act of breathing just a little more bearable, Dean got his first glimpse of what it might be like when Sam got a vision, the only difference being that his agony wasn't contained to his head and a skull splitting migraine.

--

In Emil Fredrick's office Sam was nearly done with the first cylinder. This one relayed information he was already aware of with regard to Nebuchadnezzar's reign, and the progress of his particular tower. Information Sam had actually experienced through the vision he'd been given. _I wonder if Mister Misty really IS Nebuchadnezzar or if it's someone else...or someTHING else... _he conceded that his big brothers' instincts were more often than not, almost grudgingly accurate when it came to reading people. Sam didn't mind following his lead in the belief that the silvery apparition was at the very least benign, if not benevolent. He scanned the frieze images and found he seemed to understand more than he thought he would. _She's a pretty good teacher... pretty good at flirting too..._he smiled and moved on to the next cylinder.

The second one seemed to have very little if any bearing on their current situation, it was the story Miss Tilter had told him about Inanna and Ereshkigal and how the Goddess of love had been stripped of her protections bit by bit as she'd moved through each of the seven gates she'd had to traverse in order to pay homage to her sister's lost husband, and once she'd arrived naked before the Goddess of the underworld she'd been harshly judged and torn asunder.

_Gruesome..._Sam thought upon noting the scattering of the lady's limbs throughout the whole of the cruel sister Goddess' realm. He shook his head, the story was fascinating as were most of the myths and histories he'd encountered regarding these peoples but it wasn't what he was looking for and so moved on.

A cursory examination of the final cylinder revealed a sticker on the bottom, hand written in blue ink was _"Syria 1952", _and as he ran his eyes over the heavy bronze piece, taking in the images he was now at least somewhat familiar with, that weight he'd been relieved of, began to flow slowly back into his spine. _Yeah... that's about our luck... still... we'll find a way... we have to..._

Sighing from deep in the heart of his uncertainty, Sam continued his search of Emil Fredrick's office.

--

Being that he was, or had been recently pretty much burning from the inside out, Dean wasn't surprised by the fact that even with his body unconscious, his mind was still seeing fire. What surprised him was that he was outside the world; neither standing nor floating, and still acutely and simply aware. He watched black within black spiral in on itself before a gape of orange swallowed the rear tip of black creating what was the first ouroborus. The only break in the circle of turning obsidian was that orange maw that spoke with wordless eloquence of the beginning which both is, and contains, its own end.

He didn't need to be conscious to feel the chill that shook him as within that circle, that perfect and timeless representation of infinity, a tiny spark of flame was nurtured to life, matter and energy swirling in an intricate dance that would inevitably result in the building of the planet he called home.

--

Dean felt his head snap against the steering wheel and squinted, trying to force some focus into his eyes. There wasn't a part of him that wasn't stinging, from deep inside to the hot sunburn-like feeling that was rolling out of his skin and he let himself groan as he put the car in park and looked out the passenger window at the door to their room which stood less than twenty feet away.

_Too far... just need to rest a little bit first... there's a bed in there... and a bath tub... _the sense memory of cool water sapping heat from him, drawing the excess of it out of his body to help him heal drove him to push open the car door and force himself to rise to his feet. He had no genuine memory of leaving the Turnbull house, nor of how he might have made it to the car and wondered if the bliss of shock might have enabled him to make the escape. He had a vague memory of a painful jouncing over the curb as he midjudged a turn but truly not much else.

_Ow..._ he acknowledged a searing scraping feeling as his shoulder hit the brick wall outside their door and his skin felt as if it'd been ripped off by his t-shirt, _that hurts..._ he stood still for a moment, forcing hismelf to take a deeper breath and doing everything he could to make sure that the intake of cooler air didn't set off a coughing fit that would make him wish he was gargling thumb tacks before forcing him to pass out.

"Dean?" he heard from across the parking lot behind him.

_Ah there's my boy... hiya Sammy...I'll just wait for you to get here and give me a hand eh? Boy's got timing I'll say that for him... yay..._ he felt the sting as his lips tightened in a small smile and his breath seemed to flow a little easier in spite of the burning that was threatening to send him to his knees.

"Dean?" Sam's concern was unmistakable as his clodhoppers pounded across the pavement and he drew to a halt beside him. "Dean what happened?" he asked laying a hand on his shoulder and setting off a chain reaction.

--

_He looks like he's on fire..._Sam thought as he drew across the lot, his concern growing with each step until he drew to a halt.

Dean was leaning against the wall, nearly doubled over and apparently having a great deal of difficulty breathing. Fear shot through the younger Winchester as he recalled the same exhausted, and pained stance when Dean had come to his motel room after checking hismelf out of the hospital after the Rawhead incident.

"Dean?...Dean what happened?" he asked dropping a hand onto his big brothers shoulder without thinking. His heart pumped hard when Dean barked in pain and his knees buckled. Sam barely managed to catch him before he hit the sidewalk, and as his arms clasped hard around him. Dean cried out once more, only piteously this time then slumped completely, all but dead weight in his little brothers' arms.

Sam slid the room key from between Dean's fingers and threw the door open before he hefted him over his shoulder and carried him inside, kicking the door closed behind him.

_God he's burning up... is he sick? He looks like he's been... burned... what the hell happened?_ Sam thought and wondered, _Should I take him to a hospital? This can't be good..._ and decided to play the Winchester Waiting Game. If Dean didn't show some signs of coherence or of cooling down with a few hours of basic first aid then Sam would take him to the hospital.

He knelt beside the bed and gently lowered his brother into an unsteady seated position so he could at least get his jacket off and find out if he was wounded.

_I don't like this temperature... this can't be good! What happened?_ he thought soaking a couple of hand towels in cool water then picking up his head and sliding one behind his neck before laying the other over his forehead.

"Come on Dean... wake up man... tell me what happened..." Sam muttered then looked around the room, his brows furrowed as he checked his watch, "... and where's the kid?"

Once he had Dean situated as best as possible, and when there was nothing he could do but wait, he sifted through Dean's jacket pockets until he found his phone. He knew he'd put Martin's number into memory and he wanted to know where the kid was and why he wasn't here. Sam opened the phone and frowned when the screen came up, or rather didn't come up at all. He turned it on then flipped it over and slid the battery lock but the battery itself wouldn't come out. Sam stuck his nail under the battery and wincing pried it until it popped off and onto the floor. The inner plastic side that was supposed to be smooth was bubbled and cracked and the contacts were either covered with what appeared to be melted plastic, or they'd somehow been displaced. Frowning, Sam pushed the battery back into place with an inordinate amount of effort, then closed the phone and examined it closely. There was no evidence on the outside of the housing that any such internal destruction had taken place. The instrument looked exactly as it should.

_Well that pretty much says it all... whatever did this to him was definitely supernatural. And he was at that damned house... with that son of a bitchn' silver mist... Damnit! Did IT do this to him? Or was there something else? Come on Dean... come on Dean? Come on SAM! Think... why would it approach... no it wouldn't... there has to be something else there... whatever it was that tore the servants apart and shattered the family... son of a bitch'n bastard hurt my brother! Why didn't you call me Dean? Why didn't you have a shotgun on you? _he wondered frowning and returned his attention to the jacket.

In moments, with an old photograph between his fingers and an, I-knew-it smile on his face, Sam rinsed and reapplied the cool cloths to his brother then set up the laptop on the table and got to work sorting the puzzle pieces.

--

"...I said get washed up for bed boys... now!" Marilee Watson, the Farmer Family housekeeper grinned around the door to Josh's room as they sighed their typical 'awwww's and watched for her to leave, then when they realized she wasn't going to, they actually paused the game and did as she said.

Martin dug around in his backpack, his hand closing on something cool and metal and oddly shaped. _Well that sure isn't it..._ he thought and kept digging until he found what he was looking for and dodged for the bathroom, a happy smile on his face at the prospect of spending the night at his best friend's house before what he was hoping would be the best weekend of his young life.

--

tbc y'all

What cha thinkin?

hope it's not too… odd…

Please let me know eh?

Thanks

sifi


	10. Chapter 10

Sacrifice – chpt 10 – s.n. fic

by: sifi

--

Dean looked down into the valley below, the eyes through which he saw were not his own yet they meandered where he willed them. He smiled, _well this is… interesting, it's a dream…_he thought knowing full well that his body existed some-when else and that his mind was taking a little excursion into the roots of this case. He felt an arm slide around his waist and warm curves press into his side.

"They're very industrious aren't they my love?"

He felt himself grin and looked into her beaming face, her eyes lit from deep within, a private fire just for him that stroked his heart as he brushed his lips to hers, _Oh yeah… I could deal with this…_ "… indeed they are…" heard from his own mouth before he turned back to the valley before them and drew his arm across the expanse, almost wiping the image away to make way for another, a latter image in which the heart of a great city began to shudder toward life and a mound became the base of what would become a mighty tower.

"How far will they go do you think?" she asked holding him close.

He turned and beamed into her eyes, "As far as they can be inspired to go… or as far as the heavens allow… whichever reaches its end first…" his answer was both teasing and telling at the same time but she knew exactly what he meant. _Ooh that's good… bet I could learn a thing or two from you dude._

"They seem to feed on cause and purpose… and they have an endless appetite…"

"You've been watching them?" he asked obviously amused by this for some reason. His hand rested gently on the back of her neck, at the base of her skull and his fingers twined in her hair.

She nodded, "I like them… for the most part… some of them not so much as others…" she smiled.

"The same is true for all though is it not?" his mouth asked. Dean could feel the smile on his face and wondered at it. He knew that feeling of certainty but wasn't sure from where or when, he just knew that it felt like home.

"Are you happy love?" she asked in a voice of milk and honey that sent shivers through him in all the right places.

"Aye… I am," he smiled turning their bodies together to feel her warmth against his length. He lay his mouth at the joining of her neck and shoulder and tasted tangy sweetness as behind them, deep in the valley the heart of the ancient world took shape with a mighty finger unfurling toward the heavens.

--

He roused from the arms of his lover drawn to the balcony by the ring of discord against the walls of his home. His lady stretched her arm to where his body should have lain and his absence awoke her. She strode naked to him, her body bronze and buxom in the faint torchlight, marks of her life visible only to him for no one else could come as close without descending into madness.

She stood beside him, listening as he did to the sounds of strife rolling toward them, its cacophony setting off a wail from across the bed chamber. She hung her head with a wry smile, "This is why I sometimes dislike them… they fight incessantly!" she breathed and turned to glide to the wailing one but his hand warm and firm on her arm stayed her.

"This from you?" he asked with a wry turn of the lips and a lift of his eyebrow. His grin grew wide as she dropped her head to the side and gazed into his eyes, "I'll get him," he grinned stepped from her side to retrieve their son. He stood at the cradle looking down into those wide brown eyes that came from the woman and felt his heart grow larger and warmer. _Cool! I've got a kid! I've got a son! That rocks so damn Freakin Hard!_ Dean felt himself think as he filled with love for the boy who quieted and stuck his foot into his mouth as the large hands slid beneath him and brought him to the party. From some place far away within his memories Dean heard his own childhood voice soothe softly, _Daddy's making you a bottle Sammy… you don't have to eat your feet..._

Dean felt his body approach the woman, the infant in his hand as he came from behind her and held his son to her breast. He felt her hands reach up to take the child from him but he wrapped his free hand around and pressed her firmly against him, her back to his front as his lips came to her ear, "I've got him…" he grinned watching his son fill his tiny belly.

Around him the room spun and became a different chamber on a different day, the warmth of the woman against him was gone, as was the stilling moment of bliss. His stomach lurched as he turned and scanned the room, _Wow… I think I'm gonna throw up… I wonder if a person can puke in a dream… let's not find out… just breathe Dean… just breathe… where's my son? and my woman? _he wondered, forgetting momentarily that he was not quite himself.

"My lord, are you certain he will make the right choice?" a voice to his left asked.

"I am, and when he does he shall be justly rewarded, loyalty such as his deserves it," Dean felt his mouth say.

"But such a grand reward for simple obedience that is your right? My lord, please… it is far too generous a gift…"

"You would dare to question the decision of…" the woman strode into the room, the hand of a small boy held in her own as she approached the servant who dared such an affront. At her fearsome and purposeful gait, and garbed as she was, her sandals strapped high on her legs, her skirt tight and her breasts bound firmly to her under heavy leather, with sword in one hand and child in the other she was truly a frightening countenance.

He felt himself smile as the servant bowed, pressing his forehead to the floor before her, "Nay my lady… nay…I question nothing… I am humble before you…" he stammered.

Dean felt his smile grow and his lips shrug as he thought, _That's my girl…_ then looked at the boy child who waited until the servant was properly repentant before loosing his mother's hand and running into Dean's arms, _And this is my boy! Had a growth spurt huh? Yeah... Sammy used to go to bed one night and wake up an inch taller the next day… _"Ahhh my son…" he smiled holding the boy close, feeling as if he never wanted to let him go, like he wanted to keep him that age, that innocent for all eternity.

The boy leaned back and looked into his father's eyes, "Guess where Mommy took me today…"

"Where?" he asked.

"She took me to the lions! I got to feed them and ride them… and she even let me play with them!" he squealed enthusiastically.

Dean had known somehow, perhaps by her manner of dress that they'd gone somewhere special today, "Did any of them bite you?" he asked playfully taking his son's fingers into his mouth even as he heard within his own head, _…so you think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?_

"No daddy…" his boy chuckled within the protective circle of his arms, and he remembered his own voice, utter the same reply eons later, _No daddy…_

"And if they had?" he asked.

"I'd bite them back!" his boy laughed and wrapped his warm little arms around his neck, hugging him tight before turning in his embrace and looking out the window at the city below them, "I'm going to rule all of this one day… and more daddy… my kingdom will be so vast you will weep with pride…" he vowed and kissed his fathers lips before jumping from his arms and running from the throne room.

"I'm certain you will my son…" Dean smiled feeling his arms stretch toward his woman who moved into them with wanton grace, shedding her garments along the way before stripping him of his. "I smell blood on you woman… who have you battled today?" he asked.

"Barbarians attacked pilgrims to the temple… I could not leave them to fend for themselves…not when I was so close…" she sighed kissing and stroking him.

"Mmm," he smiled against her mouth.

"…and what of him who dares to question my lord?" she asked.

"He is a craftsman my love… he will ply his trade… work his craft and do as he is told… his kind will always fear those with power and the bestowing of power to others… and what I ask is no meager feat…" he slid his hands down her sides and picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he took her to the balcony.

"You are generous my lord…" she grinned as he filled her, "My lord you ARE generous…"

That same sweet tang tickled his nose as he gave as much as he took, his body humming while hers sang astride him, his breath grew short and the scent grew stronger, _Wow… you smell like…_

--

"Fruit loops…" Dean gasped feeling as if he'd come from somewhere far away.

"Dean?..." Sam asked softly while mopping his sweat soaked brow.

About four hours after Sam put him on the bed, seeming to be on fire from the inside, and draped him in cool cloths Dean's temperature crashed back to normal and the redness was replaced with waxen pallor and instead of dry heat escaping his flesh, cold sweat began to pour from him. At first his pulse and respiration had dropped to almost imperceptible levels and Sam had forced himself not to panic. His finger hovered above the 9 on his cell phone and Dean drew in a deep breath, while his pulse returned to normal, though he remained unconscious and sweating pools.

"Ngeeah…Hmmm… Mmmm taste… milk 'n honey..." he groaned returning with agonizing slowness from wherever he'd been.

"Dean!" Sam barked and tapped his cheeks wondering if he was really coming back or if he was descending into delirium. He pried his brother's eye open with his thumb and received a quick swat for the effort.

"Come on Dean… all the way back now… you're almost here okay?" he prompted.

"Ahm'ere… ng.. what? …mmm my son…" he muttered, his ramblings sending icy fear down Sam's back so he tried once more.

"Dean! Wake Up NOW!" he yelled and watched, gratified that his shout had the intended effect. Dean seemed to snap fully back into himself and wide awake if not a little groggy.

"Sam?... what happened?" he asked scratching his head as he sat up.

Sam reached over to the table and cracked open a can of diet soda, Dean often said he preferred the flavor to regular, "You've been unconscious for seven hours and the first thing you say when you come around is Fruit Loops?" he demanded questioningly.

"'anks…" Dean's voice croaked and he tilted the can back, chugging several quick slugs then hiccoughed hard and winced as the carbonation clawed his throat, "…ouch…" he shook his head and his eyes went wide as he scrambled out from beneath the sheets and zipped into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

Sam hung his head smiling and chuckling his relief. Sometimes Dean and the things he got into could really scare him.

--

"…I don't get it Dean…I mean okay, you were there and I wasn't but you're not wired for visions man…" Sam shook his head as his brother towel dried his hair then sat next to him at the table feeling remarkably better after his shower.

"Maybe it wasn't intentional Sam… I mean whatever came out of that cylinder almost killed me man… I swear I was cooking alive okay? and NOT in the way I prefer to be if you get my meaning…" he arched his eyebrow at his little brother who nodded that he understood, "If it wasn't for Mister Misty getting that fire snake off and outta me I'd be one extra crispy Winchester so I'm not bitching about a little head trip back through prehistory… it was pretty weird though… and kinda cool…" he smiled remembering the joy and peace he'd felt even amidst the strife in the city below. He'd somehow felt like he knew it was all going to be alright, the way it was supposed to be.

"…I can't believe you remember so much so clearly…" Sam shook his head and met Dean's eyes.

"What? You've always been pretty clear on yours and let's face it man, for all we know this might just have been a really… heh heh heh REALLY vivid dream and nothing more… I mean I WAS surrounded by Babylonian artifacts and something inside one of them did try to kill me so it would make some sense that I'd dream about those times right?" he looked at Sam who shrugged and gazed back at him with an all too easily read expression that said, 'Y'got me…'

"Dean you asked about your _son_… now last I heard… you don't have any kids unless there's something you're not telling me?" Sam invited knowing he didn't have to set his brother up like that but since the opportunity had presented itself, Sam was curious.

Dean didn't have to say anything, he just shot Sam 'The Look' and the young Winchester regretting having taken the opportunity presented. It was different now that he knew his brother really did eventually want kids.

"Sorry man… that was outta line…"

"Yeah it was…" Dean nodded.

"Yeah well point is… it sounds like a vision to me."

"Maybe…well how 'bout this… your pal and mine Mr. Misty decides to help my sorry deep fried ass, kinda lays a cool one on me… not sure how I feel about that… and since I'm breathing I could feel it literally like breathing in fog man… cool and soothing y'know? Still not sure how I feel about that since he's a guy… or was a guy… and as a side effect I kinda get to glimpse his life?... lucky bastard… a woman like that… strong and fearless and wow sooo willing…" he stopped and daydreamed for a minute before shaking it off with a wistful grin, "… and a great kid… ambitious and smart too… said he was going to make me proud by having a kingdom even greater than mine…" he mused.

Sam watched Dean's expression intensely, somewhat amused by this bit of whimsy he was getting a glimpse of but also a little leery about how deeply drawn into the 'vision' or memory he'd been. _Still… he's alive… that thing saved him, whatever else it did, it kept him alive… Thank heaven for that…_ Sam thought.

--

tbc.

please let me know what you think

it's important.

sifi


	11. Chapter 11

Sacrifice – chpt 11 – s.n. fic.

by: sifi

--

Sam yawned and scratched his head then rubbed his eyes. He and Dean had been going over his files for the last two hours, since his older brother came back from wherever his head had been. Now that he was certain Dean was out of the proverbial woods, at least in a physical sense he could entertain concerns regarding his big brother's mental state. Dean wasn't mentally wired for visions and the only thing about him that seemed in any way to be supernatural was the depth of his loyalty and that freakily unerring sense of direction he had. _Could stick him in a centrifuge and drop him in the middle of nowhere at midnight and he'd still know which way is which… must be his magnetic personality… heh… magnetic… sheesh I must be more tired than I know…_ Sam thought smirking to himself while Dean continued reading one of the files Sam had put together.

"Wait… wait a sec…" Dean paused and grabbed the pictures of the cylinders Sam had printed off then sifted through them. He found the one he was looking for and handed it to Sam who'd seemed to perk up. "This one… this is the one that _thing_ came from…" he tapped the page with his finger.

Sam groaned and nodded, "…alright that makes sense… kinda… well as far as any of this makes sense…" he pointed to the serpentine figure at the base of the cylinder, "That's Tiamat… she's supposed to be responsible for the creation of life on the planet… very fiery, smokey, beginnings of time type creature…"

Dean scowled, "Well what the hell'd I ever do to her?" he asked and frowned as Sam shrugged.

"Well… whatever it is it's got something to do with that damned bell…"

"Draw me a picture…" Dean shrugged wondering how Sam was putting the pieces together. His brother had gained so much information during the day that Dean wasn't sure if he would be able to make the same connections.

Sam nodded, "Okay… we know I heard the bell when you… were… uhm when…"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean waved him past that part, not liking to think of himself as dead by broken neck, not liking to think of himself as dead period.

"…and we're pretty sure that the sound of it… with my… need… for you to be alive… is what brought you back…boy that's awkward to say to you Dean…" Sam shook his head and caught sight of Dean's scowl.

"Wha'd'you mean?" he asked.

"I mean sometimes you make it hard to let you know what I'm feeling…" Sam admitted wondering if he was able to say this because of the late hour and his own failing defenses.

"Dude…" Dean sat back with a curious expression on his face and his hands shrugging as if to say, 'what?'

Sam shook his head, "Nevermind… look point is… what if having been 'touched' by the power of the thing… it kinda left behind some kind of psychic scent or something? Something Tiamat could sense on you? Though why she'd give a damn at all I'm not sure… I mean it's not like…" Sam stopped and cocked his head to the side thinking and frowning for a moment. It was an expression Dean knew well, one that made him smile.

_Professor Peabody is on the case…ahh good times…_ he nodded smiling, _What the hell's he mean I make it hard for him to say stuff? He can tell me anything and he knows it! Besides, I know he needs me… almost as much as I need him…_ a chill ran up his spine as he heard in the back of his mind, _"…they don't need you… not like you need them…"_, he shook his head and frowned, _I thought I was over this…how can I be over it? I've never really dealt with it… never talked to either of them about it…about what he said that night…sure dad and I danced around the subject…I know it didn't come from him and he knows I know it… but it had to have come from somewhere… yeah demons lie but why bother with a lie when the truth can cut so much deeper…jeez man… put it away for a while okay? This isn't what I need to be thinking about right now… dad and sam… they DO need me, they're always gonna need me…I feel it, I know it so there's nothing to talk about…just drop it!_ he forced the issue to the back of his mind and returned to the business at hand, watching Sam deftly click links that led him through an informational maze to what he wanted.

"Dean grab the rubbing will ya?" Sam directed distractedly as his eyes scanned some collegiate looking web-page that had a photograph of a tablet with a dragon-like serpent on it. He zoomed in as Dean spread the rubbing flat on the table.

"Uh huh…okay… wow… that would explain a helluva lot…" he muttered to himself as Dean peered over his shoulder and asked,

"What?"

Sam used the cursor to point to each of the dragon's two front 'hands' in each hand was held what appeared to be two cards.

"See these? Four tablets… Tiamat was the keeper of the tablets of destiny…One for the world, one for the heavens, one for the Gods, and one for Man…We know most tablets from back then were made of clay…" he looked at Dean with an arched eyebrow.

Dean leaned over the rubbing and examined it carefully, "But if these were supposed to be guarded by a God… it should be made of something a little more durable than clay don't you think?" Dean asked getting exactly where his little brother was going.

He shook his head as Sam joined him over the piece of parchment, "I don't see anything that could indicate a seam…"

"I don't either but I had to have started somewhere… maybe I chose the seam unconsciously…"

"…and if it was crafted from one of the tablets that would certainly explain why she'd be able to… sniff it out…" he turned and looked at his little brother who was eyeing him and nodding grimly, "Sam…if that thing was forged from one of those tablets… we're talking about the destiny of all man kind right? I mean he wouldn't use the one for the heavens, earth or the gods… not to fashion a reward for a human…" Dean's legs began to shake as his hand ran down his face and he began to sweat and shiver at the same time, and he finally backed himself to the bed and sat heavily on it his eyes searching Sam's.

"Then that would mean that your buddy Mr. Misty is… or well… was a God... whichever one was responsible for creating and bestowing the bell on Nimrod…"

"I thought it was _God_ God… you know…" Dean muttered shakily.

"Not if your vision is right… if your vision was accurate then it's one of the Babylonian…" Sam pulled up a chair and sat before his big brother, watching to make sure he was going to be alright.

"The guy! The one… damnit… the one you said was hooked up with the Goddess of love…" he perked and smiled remembering the woman's pliant warmth against him, he allowed himself a small groan and sighed.

"Enki…Enki and Inanna… she was also a Goddess of Battle…" Sam informed him and withdrew another of the pictures wondering how long it was going to take for him to make the connection, or if he'd let himself. He turned the image so Dean was looking at it right side up and pointed to the woman standing on the backs of Lionesses. "That's her," he said and looked at Dean's face, his expression was absolutely unreadable.

The elder brother nodded and frowned a bit, his eyes glassed over just enough for Sam to notice it, "Yeah… that's her…" he acknowledged flatly, knowing for certain the life he'd glimpsed never had been his, not even in the longest ago of past lives possible.

For a moment Sam felt his heart go out to Dean for all he didn't have, for all that had slipped through his fingers with the vision, and then he reminded himself of the present, and some of the good things his big brother did have in his life. He'd remember them eventually, he'd remember he had his family, their friends, and a woman who'd pledged herself to him in every way possible short of vows she'd never ask for. Sam knew she wanted nothing more than to be allowed to love him with everything she had, and he wondered, not for the first time about the parallels his big brother apparently couldn't or wouldn't let himself see. _Maybe he needs another picture drawn for him…_ he mused.

--

The wee hours ticked onward toward morning while Dean played catch up with information and slowly locked the pieces of the puzzle together. Sam lay curled on his side, his knees deep into his chest on the bed sleeping soft and soundly.

_We can't let the kid go back, I mean he's… I can't believe… why would someone choose to…? I couldn't… then again… maybe if the circumstances were right I could… it's obvious he put a lot of thought into this… Damn Sammy! You did good little brother, you did REAL good…still, no matter how he started all this, he's just a kid now… we can't let him go home… not with Tiamat on the loose in there… I just bet it was her that tore them apart and shattered the statues…the family… but where the hell's the bell? He's got to have it…he might not even remember going back to get it if that interpretation is right… and I'd bet MY OWN money Sam made damn sure he got it right…but what I don't get is why wouldn't the world change around him? Course then again maybe it has… maybe we're just not seeing it because we're outside his world..._ he picked up the painstakingly taped piece of paper that was itself a trying puzzle his little brother managed to put together, quite literally. He'd found the torn pieces of heavily inked paper in an envelope in Emil Fredrick's desk drawer and wondered why he would have kept them. He'd taped them back together while Dean was out and the simplicity of the entire case came crashing over him. Grotesquely obvious once all the pieces were there, not even needing to be put together really, except to solidify what he discerned.

He looked at Sam's notes with reference to the characters etched on the bell, written in his strong clear hand; "…thought and need must be absolutely clear… will of God to manifest exact request… 'be careful what you wish for?'…" and he turned his attention to the taped piece of paper which held more than a dozen lines, attempts to correctly phrase Emil Fredrick's need. _I wish I could grow up in today's world… that's the one he picked? out of all of these possibilities…not even an 'if I knew then what I know now…' clause included? dumbass…_ he shook his head looking next at the attempts at forging a birth certificate, application for social security card and number, a copy of Emil Fredrick's will, leaving everything in trust to Martin Turnbull until he turned 21. _I'll say this much… he was thorough… but I'm pretty sure he didn't plan on turning his 'new' family into statues or getting them shattered…I should've known no nine year old is that… composed… or rational… not EVEN in today's world…It's been two days… I wonder what he'll remember by morning…_he looked at the clock, _3:30… a few more hours and he'll be awake… I wonder if 8:00 is too early to show up…hmm_ he wondered and scrolled through the document listings looking for the forensics report on the glass fragments Sam had arranged to have e-mailed to them. He'd told him earlier that on one side of almost a quarter of the glass fragments the forensics team recovered from Emil Fredrick's office, they'd found human skin and hair embedded into the glass. _"As if someone had been encased inside of it and broken free…"_ he heard Sam's voice in his head and smiled nodding. _So Emil wanted to 'break free' of his old life and start fresh? Why didn't he just choose to be completely reborn or something?_ he'd asked and wondered if perhaps the man had thought mistakenly that he might be able to retain some part of his maturity.

_Which one is it? _he wondered looking at half a dozen numerically labeled files. Each of them a police report from one case or another, _Sammy better clean this shit off the drive man… if the cops ever had reason to go through this stuff…_he opened it, _Missing persons' report… Adrienne Stephens… well that ain't it… _and he moved on to the next one, _Carol Guinardi's 911 call and the EMT report… nope…_ and the next _Cook County Coroner's report…Richard Haybert Douglas… who?_ he wondered and scrolled down reading the report at first with cursory curiosity. By the time he was finished with the Medical Examiner's summation he didn't know quite what to feel or who to feel it toward. _No… no… please don't let it be what I'm thinking…please no… _he looked at his sleeping brother and wanted to drag him off the bed and punch him, and he wanted to drag him off the bed and just cling to him and ask him why… why hadn't he told him if he knew? but with tiny stinging tears spilling over the rims of his eyes he would do neither. His eyes fell to the open document on the screen, certain words almost jumping into his visual path, _"…abrasions… consistent with forceful or rough intercourse... gross physical evidence though marginal is consistent with caucasian female characteristics, tissue samples retrieved indicates forced or forceful sexual contact…" _and he saw those moments of fear cross her eyes, those bits of dullness when she seemed to want to be anywhere or anyone else, or maybe even not exist at all. _"…I didn't want you to see me… weak…"_ he heard her voice. _I should have known it was more than that… damnit to hell! I should've known! _he watched her skitter out of reach until she'd fallen between the bed and the wall claiming to have been unnerved by a dream… and Sam had turned away, _he knew… the little son of a bitch! Even then he KNEW! _Dean breathed deep and reminded himself, _He couldn't have said anything just then… I know that… but he could've told me! He SHOULD have told me! _

Over the next half hour Dean _almost_ called Laura more than ten times, he _almost_ woke Sam up twice as many times and he paced the room more times than he could count, feeling his heart ripping just a little more each time he thought of someone hurting the one person who gave him everything she had to give without asking for anything back. After all had been said and done, throughout that whole time, she'd never hesitated to give herself to him with rapturous abandon. _How could she stand to have ANYONE touch her? If that bastard…if he… how could she let even me touch her? or have her? Or love her?_ he wondered and realized that for the moment there was nothing he could do about what had gone before. They had to finish this case and destroy that bell, then he would call her up and find out where she was. They needed to talk. He needed to know for sure and by God she was going to tell him. He looked at his brother, _I know Sam… it wasn't up to you to say anything… it's between her and me…I still might hit you, but I understand…_

--

tbc – 12 is coming – quickly – please R&R, I need it!

Thanks. sifi


	12. Chapter 12

Sacrifice – chpt 12 – s.n. fic.

by: sifi

--

"…I'm Martin's uncle on his mothers' side… and this is an associate of mine from the University… Sam Finkelstein…" Dean introduced them to the woman at the door to the Farmer house completely ignoring the look of pure confusion on his little brother's face.

"Well the boys are down at the pool and I'm afraid the Farmer's are out of town, they left early this morning…" Marilee Watson shrugged inside the doorway.

"The boys are at the pool?" Sam asked.

Miss Watson nodded.

"Good… listen… I know Martin was supposed to have his party at Jeepers tonight then after the concert bring everyone back to the manor…" Dean confided, and watched the housekeeper relax visibly considering his knowledge of the party plans for this evening.

"Yes."

He took a deep breath and looked from the young lady before him to his brother and back again, "Well… I'm not sure if you're aware of it or not but his parents were called out of town too…"

Her brows furrowed, "Something to do with the museum pieces?" she asked.

Dean looked at Sam and spocked his eyebrow while shaking his head, "I honestly don't know…"

"…but it's interesting that you should bring up the museum pieces… we think Martin might have one of them in his possession… apparently he was allowed to bring it to school with him yesterday…" Sam interjected.

"We think…" Dean added.

"Right…"

"So… you want to see his bag?" she asked frowning and confused by the strange vibe these two men before her were giving off.

"If it's not too much trouble," Sam smiled shrugging awkwardly.

She nodded and furrowed her brows at them, "That's fine… wait here," she instructed and bounded energetically up the stairs two at a time. She had no fear of the men, just a sense that there was some serious tension between them.

"Finkelstein? Where the hell did that come from?" Sam asked smirking once she was out of earshot.

"Well if the Finkel fits…" Dean shrugged, blanked his face and turned his attention to the firm round behind disappearing down the upstairs corridor.

"What? Dean!"

"What?" he faced his little brother with an expression that said, 'I dare you to ask…' and had never failed to stop Sam from whatever tack he was on at the time, until today. _Natch… just my kind of luck… another sun shiny Winchester Morning…just shut up Sam._

"What?" Sam asked shrugging helplessly, "You've been…" he waved his hands abruptly and scowled, "… weird… since we got up… what is it?"

"You really don't want me to answer that right now Sam… just trust me… another time, another place… but not here and not now… well… not yet anyway…" Dean wise- cracked and eyed Sam in such a way, the younger Winchester actually felt his stomach flip over.

_Oh crap…_he thought and swallowed hard. He saw Dean see some kind of knowledge pass through him and his big brother nodded with a dark smile just as Miss Watson emerged from the dark hallway carrying Martin's gym bag in one hand and his book bag in the other.

"I didn't know which one you wanted," she smiled between the boys and led them to a parlor off the main entrance where she motioned for them to sit. "Can I get either of you gentlemen something to drink?"

"Coffee would be great if you have some…" Dean smiled.

Marilee looked at Sam who nodded, "Same would be great thanks…"

She nodded and left the men to sift through the boy's bags.

Dean tossed the gym bag at his little brother harder than necessary and Sam scowled, "Dean…"

"Shut it Sam…" he warned.

"Would you talk to me? Look, if you're pissed off because of why I think you're pissed off you gotta know… it wasn't…"

"Your place… I get it… really… I understand Sam… really," Dean bit his lower lip, his face betraying his sense of helplessness as he rose holding the book bag tight in his fist while he paced the room, "… it doesn't change the fact that I really want to smack the crap out of you right now okay?"

"So what's stopping you? If it's going to make you feel better dude… go for it… I can hold my own against you…" Sam invited setting the gym bag down on the floor and rising to his feet.

"Yeah well we both know it'll only make me feel worse… does she know you knew?" Dean asked.

Sam swallowed and shook his head, "I don't think so… that whole week Dean… it's still a blurr… everything you guys went through… everything she was going through… the way Morrigan was tearing her down with the deaths in between… it was psychological warfare… and then that son of a bitch thrown into the mix…" Sam shrugged and looked helplessly at Dean, "…and it's not like I really KNEW either… and neither do you… we SUSPECT based on the report… but that doesn't mean it was her…"

Dean stopped pacing and looked at him incredulous, his mouth hanging open, "What do you mean we don't KNOW Sam! We KNOW it alright? We don't need to get bent over ourselves to know…" he stopped and drew in a deep frustrated breath then returned to the chair and sat down with the book bag in hand, "Later Sam… let's finish what's on our plate first…"

"Yeah alright…" Sam nodded sighing as he returned to his chair and picked up the gym bag. "Hey…I think…" he said making sure to wrap his hand carefully around the whole of the metal and keep it on its side to prevent any chance of it ringing out.

Dean huffed a small chuckle and cocked a nervous half smile as Sam drew his hand out of the gym bag and sighed looking at the cone of bronze that had caused so much confusion and strife. _Such a simple little thing…_ Sam thought and met his brothers' eyes, knowing Dean was thinking pretty much the same exact thing.

Dean looked around the room, his eyes falling onto a box of tissues on the end table. He wiggled his eyebrows and pulled and handful of them out, then wadded them up and stuffed them into the open end of the bell, making sure to keep the clacker straight and firmly against the metal.

Marilee entered with a small serving tray with two cups of coffee and the appropriate accoutrements on it. "Oh you found what you were looking for then?" she smiled.

"Yes ma'am thank you…" Dean nodded taking the tray from her and setting it down on the coffee table then handing Sam one of the heavy linen napkins, "here," into which he wrapped the bell securely then tucked it as close to horizontally as it would go into his inner jacket pocket.

All three of them startled when the door burst open. Martin and Joshua raced into the room with towels over their shoulders, and water from the pool nearly gone from them.

"Dean! Sam!" Martin grinned hugely as they stood up, "Hey Josh this is Dean and Sam…they're the ones I was telling you about…he actually showed me how to hold a shotgun!" Martin bragged lightly then noticed his bags, "…hey those're mine…" he scowled.

"Yeah… uh Martin… your folks… well you know they're out of town right?" Dean asked.

Martin shook his head, "No… when'd they leave?" he asked pursing his lips.

"Uh yesterday…"

"But what about my party? They said the guys could stay over…" he questioned and didn't understand the look that passed between the brothers.

Sam heard Dean's voice from the drive over this morning, _"Yeah well depending on how accurate your notes are… he might not even remember us Sam… he might not remember that the last time he saw his family they were stone statues… how the hell are we gonna tell him they're garden fodder? Or that the staff is a jumble of body parts rotting in the foyer…" _

"_Dude you can be really sick sometimes…" _Sam recalled being pretty well floored by his brother's ability to reduce some things to their most primal and basic components.

"_Maybe so… but if you're right, and I'm betting you are Sam… then there's nothing left of Emil Fredrick's inside that kid. As far as he knows he is and always has been Martin Turnbull Junior…"_

"We just came by to pick up one of the artifacts you brought to school yesterday and to see if it was okay to host the party here since your folks are out of town…" Sam smiled.

Martin looked from him to Dean and then to Josh who was looking pleadingly at Marilee who finally nodded her consent. She knew the five children in question and they were all well behaved enough for her to handle for the weekend.

"Sure… it's fine with me…" she smiled with one hand on either of the boys' heads and tussled their hair, "… go dry off and get dressed…" she directed and they charged from the room 'whoop'ing their good fortune and starting to make plans for the night.

"Care to stick around and help me with them tonight gentlemen? Especially since you're the ones who got me into this?" she asked smiling flirtatiously at Dean for a moment before she frowned slightly.

"Something's wrong isn't it?" she asked.

Dean nodded, "We lied… the Turnbull's weren't called out of town, fact is we don't know where they are… the manor was broken into and vandalized… the Turnbull's haven't been seen since the night of Martin's family party… and right now the last thing we need is for any groundless speculation to surge through the community… we're helping investigators any way we can… we just want to make sure Martin is as safe as can be…"

The story he wove to the housekeeper stunned Sam so hard he had to literally bite his lips to keep his mouth closed.

"Oh Dear God… Martin can stay here as long as he'd like…" Marilee Watson offered.

--

"What the hell was that about!" Sam asked once they were on their way back to the manor.

"If we can't get this fixed Sam there has to be some kind of cover story… it makes more sense to put the word out that they've disappeared but no one really knows what's up just yet than to have people remember US once they find a foyer full of body parts don't you think?" Dean explained and hoped he'd done the right thing or that if they were right in their supposition that his buddy Mr. Misty was indeed Enki that he might be able to help them set things back to the way they were supposed to be.

"Yeah…you're right… so any ideas how we destroy this thing? If it's supposed to be guarded by Tiamat I'm guessing fire isn't gonna hurt it…" Sam sighed.

"We're not gonna destroy it…"

"'Scuse me?" Sam shook his head.

"We gotta fix this Sam…even if he was Emil Fredrick, he's just a kid now… and a kid needs his family…"

"You're not talking about letting him stay a kid? Dean we gotta destroy this thing and undo all this…" Sam protested.

Dean chuckled, "Has it occurred to you that if we 'undo' all this… I could wind up dead again? I don't know about you but a spontaneously broken neck would kinda ruin my day Sam…"

"Hmm I didn't think about that…" Sam admitted.

"Obviously…Good thing I did though huh?" Dean smirked.

"Yeah… y'know what I don't get is why would anyone want to be a kid again?" Sam shook his head.

Dean looked sidelong at him and frowned slightly, "Sam… the guy was dying… you read the test results… he had end stage lung cancer… maybe you hated childhood that much to never want to experience it again but maybe if you had a bell in your hot little hands that would allow you to pick any life you wanted…" he stopped and looked at his little brother who sat in the passenger seat nodding.

Sam turned and looked at Dean, his big brother's uncertainty written plainly for him to see, "Don't worry Dean… I'm not going there… I wouldn't want to be a kid again… and don't get me thinking about what kind of a life I could imagine for all of us or I might change my mind… make it so none of this ever happened… so mom and Jess were never killed… so we could have the life and lives that we've all wanted to return to… nah… why would I do that huh?" he asked sarcastically as his eyes filled with tears.

"Sam…" Dean started softly.

"No…" Sam shook his head, "…the balance of nature would just put someone else through it all… someone who maybe couldn't do as well as we've done helping people, killing whatever evil we can get to…"

"Or maybe someone else would be better at it…" Dean suggested softly and bolted the door of his mind hard against the memory of that peace and bliss he'd felt when he'd lived those moments as Enki. "What couldn't we do if we had the power, the will of God?" he wondered.

"I told you this was too big for us…" Sam sighed and patted the bell in his jacket pocket, "Drive faster…"

Dean pressed the accelerator down and fixed his gaze on the road ahead, _Small minded… I'd find some way to make it all right… to make it…_ he sniffed back a little of his own mist knowing full well that no matter how hard he might try, no matter how perfectly he could phrase his need the universe could not grant it to him, not yet. He had work to do in this life and he knew it.

--

Dean and Sam entered the manor and secured the door behind themselves as Sam pulled the bell from his pocket though did not unwind it from the napkin.

"Enki!" he called and felt a faint burr in his throat.

"What're you calling him for? It belongs to Tiamat…" Sam asked.

"You're the one who said it… Enki was a peacemaker between the Gods or between Gods and men right?..."

"You're going to ask a God to broker a deal?" Sam asked dismayed by his brother's sheer audacity.

"You catch on fast Sammy…" Dean smiled and nodded at the top of the stairs where that barbershop style pole of swirling silver and orange seemed to dance toward them.

"That orange one Tiamat?" Sam asked shifting nervously on his feet.

"Guessing so…" he nodded though his eyes didn't budge from the two entwined masses.

The silver mass that was Enki unwound itself from the swirling fury of Tiamat's essence and literally became a barrier of sorts between the she-god of creation and the Winchester humans.

"Can you give the boy back his family?" Dean asked the silver face.

It seemed to think for a moment and listened as a rending screech came from behind it. Slowly it shook its head once then its eyes grew wide and it smiled. In seconds it had stretched and bent its rolling mist form so Sam and Dean could see the front of the Farmer house. They watched a car roll up and an adult walk with the small figure that was supposed to represent Martin to the door. The front door opened and a woman neither of the boys had met knelt down and took Martin into her arms, welcoming him into her life.

"You'll make sure he has A family…" Dean nodded and pressed his lips together, he couldn't look to his right, he knew if he did he might crack and ask for a different life, a safe, normal life that his baby brother could grow old living. No matter that it would mean he would continue on alone, no matter what else the personal cost, he was that close to asking… for Sam.

The face took shape again smiling and nodded once. It turned its attention to Sam who dug into his pocket and took the bell out, he held it in his outstretched hand and stood still as a tendril of orange came around the silver mist and wrapped around it. The linen napkin and tissue stuffed inside burned away and the bronze began to glow white hot as it hovered before Sam and Dean. The tendril split into two as did the metal before it unwrapped then lay flat. The ancient Hebrew inscribing on its side melted in the searing heat of the Goddess's fire to make room for the first language, that of the Gods to embellish once more its intended surface.

The silver face focused its eyes on Dean, it's countenance was full of empathy as it sensed the hurt rolling through the young human. It tilted to the side silently asking its question, _I just wish I knew if any of it made any difference at all…Mom… Sammy… these demons… if it's all this big freakin' circle and balance and dance does any of it really matter? Why the pain? Why wouldn't she tell me? Doesn't she trust me? _he wondered so lost in thought now that the bell/tablet was back with its rightful owner that he didn't see Enki's expression, didn't see him hearing Dean's thoughts and begin to respond at least in part.

"Dean?" Sam elbowed him and pointed at the cascading gray/silver smoke that once more communicated in the only way it had. It showed them a plain lined with four columns of people, two columns masculine, two feminine. One of each consisted of literally hundreds upon hundreds of deities stretching out as far as the eye could see, each one standing shoulder to shoulder with another before an equidistant line of mortal men who also stood shoulder to shoulder. The same pattern was observed with the feminine, each deity before a human.

In each of the human lines there were some who turned and walked away as the deity approached, just as there were some who extended their hand or embraced the approaching being and still others who simply walked through the line, heedless of any other being at all. But for each line of humans that made a choice, another appeared behind that one, until the boys began to understand they were watching human generations pass. The sheer numbers that were being represented to them was staggering as their perspective seemed to be flying above this vast field of opportunity, whether missed, taken or ignored. Slowly they were led through the ages to a gray misty representation of John as he embraced his own godhood and behind him came Dean who stood before Enki. The visual aid was no more as Dean stood before the full bodied apparition that represented the one time supreme deity. Dean felt the corner of his mouth tilt upward as the misty representation brought its hand up to his chest, beneath his pendant then met his eyes with a look he couldn't begin to decipher. He set the pendant back onto his chest _Again with the pendant? What's up with these guys and this thing?_ he wondered as behind Enki a familiar pair of antlers joined the Babylonian deity, _Hey Cernunnos… how're ya doin?_ he thought and saw the Celtic God smile.

Dean felt movement at his back and cast a glance over his shoulder. He couldn't see Sammy at his right but knew he was there, whatever he was seeing he couldn't begin to know but he did see an all too familiar shape out of the far corner of his eye and he turned, his gaze falling into the silver/gray swirling representation of his Laura stood smiling easily at him, on her right, behind her stood a towering Celtic Goddess that he wasn't familiar with, he only knew it wasn't Morrigan, and on her left, also behind her stood Enki's woman, the Goddess Inanna.

_Different names and places but essentially the same Gods…_Dean thought and turned back to see Cernunnos leaning against Enki, his hand slapped him companionably on the chest as the Babylonian deity nodded with a smile. _And this thing? My patron deity right?_ he thought and felt the mist that was Enki draw back on itself and look him in the eyes once again.

_Not much of an answer dude… really…well… maybe just not the one I wanted huh?_ he thought and the face nodded once with a wry smile before giving a slight bow toward Sam who stood stunned and uncertain about anything that had just transpired and slipped back up the stairs, retreating to wherever it was supposed to go.

--

"… so when you talked to her did you mention… or ask…?" Sam asked as they walked easily back to the car, steaming large cups in hand from the Oasis coffee shop. They were headed toward some podunk town in Idaho where there were rumors of a murderous motorist who kept running down pedestrians.

"No… I figure it's something to talk about in person… and I'm not even sure if I should ask… if she wanted me to know she'd say something right?" he asked.

"Right…" Sam drawled. For four days now that they'd been finished with the Turnbull case Dean had been almost frighteningly pensive. He'd told Sam everything Enki had showed him and together they'd come to the conclusion that somehow, at least for Dean since he was the one Mr. Misty had addressed and apparently bonded with, his destiny, his choices were bound to deities of balancing, rebirth and fertility stripe. Sam had laughed good and long at the whole fertility thing considering what he knew about Dean's libido. Far as he could figure his brother had been born horny and wasn't about to change any time soon. _"What! It's YOU… it's just… You're pegged dude!" _Sam had laughed but he knew Dean, and he knew his brother hadn't picked up any other girl than the one they were talking about, not since before the accident. Sam knew Dean was hooked and he loved it.

Dean's new phone chirped to life, the opening riffs of some old Kansas song as his ringtone and he flipped it open.

"Hey Bobby… what's up?" he smiled easily while leaning against the car door.

Sam watched the color drain from his brother's face taking that easy smile with it as he huffed,

"Wha?" he swallowed hard, his eyes glassing over as he flicked them over his little brother's face.

"Dean? What is it? What's wrong?" he asked coming around to the drivers' side.

"When?" he gasped leaning heavily against his beloved Metallicar and feeling like his legs wanted to crumple and toss him to the ground.

"Dean?" Sam gasped and leaned in toward the phone to try and hear what was being said.

"We're on our way…" Dean muttered numbly and closed the phone, pocketing it absently as Sam grasped his shoulders,

"Dean what is it? What happened?" he asked.

Dean shook his head and swallowed hard, biting back the rivers that wanted to pour out of his eyes, "Oh God no…Please no…" he simply said.

--

End.

Please R&R.

Thanks

sifi


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